


Brotherly Love

by lecielbleu



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Substance Abuse, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecielbleu/pseuds/lecielbleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odette Styles enjoys being the sister of an international pop superstar and all the perks that come with it. When on-again off-again boyfriend Zayn Malik is finally ready to commit and invites her on One Direction’s European tour, Odette jumps at the opportunity. One thing that Odette does not look forward to however, is being under the watchful eye of her protective older brother Harry Styles. </p><p>No matter how far Odette seems to run, there are just some things she can't seem to get away from, one of them being herself. </p><p>WARNING: Includes themes of sex, incest, subtance abuse, and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

I lived for running.

I lived for the smack of cement beneath my feet, for the violent thumping of my heart against my ribs, for the droplets of sweat gathered between my breasts. I had been running through Cheshire’s heavily wooded trails for years now, a daily habit of mine that had proved to be difficult since the induction of Harry’s fame into our lives. And for this reason, I favoured running at dawn.

Circling back towards home, I darted across the rickety plank of plywood bridging its way over the small stream that seemed to surface late in spring each year, landing on the gravel with a soft thud. Winding down to a jog, the chorus of birds fresh from slumber was the only company I would have for the remainder of my trek home.

“Fuck it.” I muttered under my breath, giving into temptation and sliding a menthol between my lips. It was far too cold of a morning to refuse myself this small pleasure. Emerging from the trails, I crossed onto the sidewalk, the sun beginning to peak over the clouds just as I bounded up the porch steps of my house.

Not quite finished with my cigarette, I entered the house anyways, certain that everyone would still be asleep. Gently shutting the front door behind me, I made my way into the kitchen, prying open the window over the sink and continuing to puff away on my fag. The sun was baring its face at last, proving that the weather would be nothing less than perfect during the family barbeque taking place later that day. It would be perfect nonetheless however, solely based on the fact that Zayn Malik would be in attendance.

Zayn Malik; the boy that I gave my heart to, but also the boy that had no idea what to do with it.

Discarding of my sweater, I stood in only my black Nike sports bra, allowing the cool morning breeze to caress my bare arms and midriff. Almost halfway out the window, my ears pricked suddenly at the distinct sound of footsteps padding their way down the hallway and towards the kitchen. Certain that it was my Mother, I took one final drag and flung the remainder of my cigarette out the window and into the flower bed below, madly swatting at the air to disperse the cloud of smoke surrounding my head.

Mid-yawn, my older brother Harry breezed into the kitchen, his curly brown hair pointing in all directions and his green eyes half-closed.

“Morning.” Harry greeted me lazily, meandering over to the fridge. Prying open the door, Harry poked his head inside, scratching his chest as he searched for the carton of orange juice.

“For fuck’s sake, Harry!” I growled in frustration, still wildly attempting to air out the kitchen. “I thought you were Mum!”

Harry smirked at me, leaning against the side of the fridge as he unscrewed the lid of the orange juice. “She’s going to catch you one of these days, you know.” Harry chastised me playfully, not bothering with a glass and taking a large gulp directly from the carton.

I gave Harry an annoyed smile. “As if I give a shit.” I scoffed, propping myself up on the counter and letting my hair loose from the restraining ponytail at the crown of my head. “I’m practically a woman! I’m quite capable of making my own bloody decisions.” I added, swinging my feet back and forth.

“A woman?” Harry announced, his tone incredulous. “You’ve just turned nineteen, Odette. I’d hardly call that a woman.” He told me, returning the carton of orange juice to the fridge.

“Yes, a woman, Harry.” I insisted, reaching over to pluck a red apple from the fruit bowl. “If I lived in India I would’ve been married years ago and be on my third child by now.” I added with a pointed look before biting into the apple’s flesh.

Harry gave me an odd look. “Whatever you say, sis.” He announced in defeat, shaking his head to himself as he made his way over to the coffee maker. I watched in silence as Harry scraped yesterday morning’s coffee from the filter, replacing it with a fresh batch.

“I didn’t tell you yet, but…” I trailed off, Harry casting his green eyes when I didn’t continue. “Zayn’s coming tonight.” I concluded in a small voice.

Harry narrowed his eyes at me. “Really, Odette?” He announced in disbelief, his tone accusatory.

“It’ll be different this time, Harry!” I interjected, jumping slightly as Harry slapped the lid of the coffeemaker down.

“Which is what you say every time!” Harry exclaimed, whirling around to face me angrily.

I stared onwards at my brother, attempting to maintain my composure. “He always comes back to me, Harry.” I whispered, wanting him to understand so badly.

Harry took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “Odette, Zayn is my best friend. I know him better than you can ever hope to.” He explained gently. “You’ll just end up getting hurt again, even if he doesn’t mean for it.”

My lower lip began to tremble, tears involuntarily rushing to the corners of my eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.” I spat, hopping off the counter and landing solidly on the balls of my feet and pushing past Harry.

“Odette!” Harry called after me, his tone apologetic.

“Just stay out of it!” I screamed viciously over my shoulder, rushing out of the kitchen and slamming the door shut behind me. “Tosser.” I muttered under my breath, kicking off my trainers and abandoning them by the front door.

Ascending the stairs two steps at a time, I headed straight for the loo, locking the door behind me. Leaning my head against the door, I let out a sigh of relief, already exhausted even though my day had barely begun. Turning my head to the right, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me was a breathless nineteen year old girl, with disheveled shoulder length blonde hair and dark brown eyes. In dire need of a shower, I peeled off my sports bra, marveling at the pleasant sensation of cool air against my breasts. Shimmying out of my sopping leggings, underwear, and socks, I switched on the tap to the highest temperature I could manage. Emerging into the hot stream of water, I cast Harry’s words out of my mind and reminded myself that Zayn came back to me, and would always come back to me. 

* * *

 

The scent of cooking meat was on the breeze, my taste buds salivating in response. The night was warm enough for a dress, and so I had selected a simple white summer frock, one that brought out the slight tan I had managed to gain from the British sun. Wearing my hair in a sleek bun, I had decided to keep my makeup down to the bare essentials –foundation, a bit of mascara, and a bit of tinted gloss, knowing all too well that Zayn hated it when I slathered on more than that.

Making my way to the living room, I peeked out the glass doors, seeing that my aunts and uncles were mulling about the patio, my Mother and Step-Father bickering over the temperature to grill the hotdogs on. Unable to catch sight of Harry or any of the others, I ventured out onto the deck, at last seeing that the boys had immersed themselves in makeshift game of football in the garden, all five of them clad in black shorts and red checkered Man-U Jerseys. Zayn had the ball in front of him, his face screwed up in concentration as he juggled it between his feet. Managing to get the ball past Liam, Zayn had almost made it to the designated net on the opposite side of the lawn when Harry stole the ball from him. Laughing in defeat, Zayn yelled something at Harry while leaning heavily on his knees, catching his breath. I observed Zayn’s beauty in awe, his jetty black hair, ever tanned skin, and dark lashes, as splendid as they had been if not more.

“Odette!” My Mother yelped, rudely drawing me from my thoughts. “Tell the boys to come eat, the food is getting cold!”

At the distant sound of my name, Zayn’s head shot up, his dark eyes falling on me. We simply stared at one another, a small smile spreading across Zayn’s lips after a few moments. “I’ll be right back.” Zayn called over to the others, play stopping momentarily when Harry balanced his foot on the ball, watching as Zayn bounded up the patio steps towards me, Liam, Louis, and Niall looking on curiously as well.

Zayn strode up to me, his dark eyes giving me a once-over. “Hey.” He smiled again, going to scratch the back of his head.

“Hi.” I breathed, my lips breaking into a brilliant smile. Sensing the discreet looks cast our way from my nosy family members, I grabbed Zayn’s hand pulled him around the side of the house. Once we were out of sight, I let go of Zayn’s hand and leaned against the brick wall. “I thought we could talk here.” I explained sheepishly, noticing that Zayn’s dark eyes had not left me once. “Where no one can hear us, you know.” I smiled.

“You mean Harry.” Zayn corrected me with a grin, eliciting a laugh from deep within my chest.

“Exactly.” I grinned, my breath momentarily hitching in my throat when I noticed that Zayn had closed the large gap between us. He was peering down at me, his dark eyes unreadable as they examined me.

“You look good.” He breathed, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Odette-” He began, attempting to explain himself.

I placed my fingers on Zayn’s lips, halting his words. “It’s alright.” I assured him with a whisper.

Zayn removed my hand from his mouth, cradling it in his own. “I fucked up, Odette.” Zayn emphasized, his brown eyes drilling into mine. “That girl, she was nothing.” He told me, lifting my chin so that I couldn’t avoid his gaze.

I nodded my head. “I know.” I whispered, only wanting to feel the pressure of Zayn’s lips against mine. “Can we start over?” He said as he inched towards me, so quietly that I could barely hear him.

I could feel Zayn’s hot breath against my lips. “Yes.” I murmured, so engrossed in Zayn that I almost didn’t notice a football bounce around the corner of the house, rolling towards where we stood. The both of us looked down at the ball curiously, Harry suddenly dashing around the side of the house and freezing when he saw us. Zayn took a step away from me, although from the displeased look on Harry’s face, he knew that we had started up again.

“You coming?” Harry directed at Zayn, retrieving the ball from the ground. Zayn took a breath, and glanced towards me.

“Yeah.” He said, reaching down to secure my hand in his. Harry’s green eyes flickered down to our conjoined hands for a moment. “Right, let’s go then.” He mumbled, turning on his heel to return to the game. Raising his eyebrows, Zayn grinned at me. “Better he find out now than later.” He explained. And with that, Zayn and I returned to the others, his arm resting across my shoulders as we caught up with my Aunty Gwen, and meanwhile, I ignored Harry for the remainder of the night, not bothering even, to return his poorly hidden glares.


	2. Blue Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date night gone awry results in the siblings spending time together. The full moon marks a new beginning for Odette.

I was floating, weightless now that Zayn was mine again.  
The sun was crawling across the hardwood floor of my bedroom, and I was warm, bundled up in my sheets that still held the faint scent of Zayn’s cologne. We had stayed up late talking, Zayn continuing to apologize for his previous indiscretions, promising me that it would never happen again. And I believed him, as I always did, as I always would. Glancing over at my iDock, I saw that it was just past noon –too far into the day to dare take a run. And so I opted for a hot shower instead, only regretting that whatever was left of Zayn on my skin would be washed away, at least until later that night. Hopefully the water would take my doubts with it.

Draping my legs over the side of my bed, I planted my feet on the warm cherry wood, uncertain if I was even touching the floor as I made my way over to the loo. About to enter, the faint sound of sloshing water reached my ears, and it was apparent that Harry had already claimed the bath. About to turn on my heel, I paused when Harry’s raspy voice reverberated through the door, at first in the form of a hum and then singing.  
Blue moon  
You saw me standing alone  
Without a dream in my heart  
Without a love of my own

Blue moon  
You knew just what I was there for  
You heard me saying a prayer for  
Someone I really could care for

Without a love of my own

Elvis Presley’s rendition –Harry’s favourite. 

Leaning my head against the door, I knew that this fight between Harry and I had to end at some point. When it came to my relationship with Zayn, Harry and I could not have more different opinions. So much so that at times it felt as if we were ten years apart instead of two, worlds apart instead of living under the same roof. Zayn and I dating was probably something that we would never see eye-to-eye on, however, and I didn’t blame Harry for it either. Harry simultaneously had to deal with supporting his best friend and with looking out for the best interests of his sister, both of which were no easy feat. The whole thing had certainly strained Harry and Zayn’s friendship, and even more so when we had broken up; Zayn going out of his way to avoid the events I would be present at when he was able to.

Harry went on singing, and I smiled in spite of myself, the vibration of my phone drawing me from my thoughts. My smile widened when I saw that it was from Zayn.

See you tonight x, it read.

Blue moon  
You saw me standing alone  
Without a dream in my heart  
Without a love of my own  
Without a love of my own  
Blue moon  
Without a love of my own

*

Having locked myself in my room for most of the day, I finally succumbed to the violent rumbling of my stomach and ventured towards the kitchen. With my Mum and Step-Dad away for the night, Zayn and I would have the house to ourselves, a giddy smile appearing on my lips at just the thought of it. Mentally sorting through my closet and thinking of what to wear, I absentmindedly breezed into the kitchen, freezing when I saw that Harry was standing at the counter, munching on half a sandwich. Harry’s head shot up at my entrance, and he ceased his chewing to stare at me.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out in surprise.

Harry narrowed his eyes, swallowing the food in his mouth. “I live here too, you know.” He retorted sarcastically, shaking his head to himself and taking another bite of his sandwich.

I groaned inwardly. That had come out wrong. I let out a petulant sigh, thinking that this was all very counter-productive to my wanting to make peace with him. “No, I meant I didn’t know you were still here…that’s all.” I corrected myself, my tone softer.

Harry paused, shrugging. “I’m going out soon anyways.” He told me, swiping at the lock screen on his iPhone to check the time. “Want the other half?” Harry offered after a moment, pushing his plate towards me, still containing half a sandwich about twice the size of a normal one.

I nodded graciously, picking it up and taking a large bite from it. “Is that why you’re all dressed up?” I inquired as I chewed, observing Harry who was clad in a pair of black trousers and red plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled up, his mop of curly brown hair styled away from his face.

“I’ve got a date.” Harry smirked jokingly, gulping down the remaining dregs in his glass of milk.

“Really now?” I teased, popping the last bit of crust into my mouth. “And who’s the lucky lady?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Her name’s Amelia, a friend of Danielle’s.” Harry informed me. “Should be here any minute, actually.”

Nodding in reply, a comfortable silence fell between Harry and I, and so I decided to take the opportunity to apologize to him, as I promised myself I would.

“I’m sorry for everything yesterday, Harry.” I began slowly, a self-deprecating smile on my lips. “I was too hard on you.” I concluded, although I hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Harry stared at me, a smile finding his lips after a moment. “You were right, Odette,” He told me in earnest. “What goes on between you and Zayn is none of my business.”

Opening my mouth to respond, I stopped myself when I heard the front door slam, a pair of high heels click-clacking their way down the hallway. “Harry?” An uncertain female voice called out.

“In here!” Harry yelled, and into the kitchen breezed a statuesque brunette, her hair as black if not blacker than Zayn’s. The girl, who I presumed to be Amelia, was undoubtedly beautiful, her bright white smile contrasting against her caramel skin.

“Hey.” Harry gave her a crooked grin, striding over to Amelia and planting a kiss on her cheek.

Amelia’s smile widened, her eyes flowing over Harry. “Hi,” She cooed in reply, snaking her arm around Harry’s waist. “And who’s this?” She inquired pleasantly, her tone resembling one of a Mother talking to her child. I tried my very best not to flinch.

“This is my little sister, Odette.” Harry gestured towards me with a smile.

I extended my hand to Amelia. “It’s nice to meet you.” I told her, a saccharine smile on my lips. Amelia was nice enough, but seemed like a bit of an airhead. Harry had done much better for himself on other occasions.

Amelia accepted my hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you too!” She gushed, then turning to Harry. “We should probably get going, yeah?” She suggested, glancing at the time on her cell phone. “What’s that movie we’re seeing again? Steel Man?” Amelia pondered aloud.

Harry bowed his head in embarrassment. “Iron Man…it’s Iron Man.” He corrected Amelia quietly, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards the door. “See you later!” He threw over his shoulder with a grin.

“Have fun!” I called after them, playfully, smiling in spite of myself.

Hearing the front door slam, I at once rushed from the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, heading directly for my closet. Sifting through the various dresses, my mind could not help but drift back to Amelia and Harry. Slipping into a black dress smattered with red flowers, it struck me that Harry had not dated a brunette is ages, and that usually he had an affinity for blondes. Examining myself in the mirror, I could not help but grin, satisfied with how flattering the dress looked on me and hoping that Zayn would think so too.

*

I was curled up at my computer, scrolling through old photographs of Zayn and I and venturing to Google when I ran out. I stared blankly at my computer screen, going to rub my tired eyes with the palms of my hands. Glancing at my iDock, I saw that it was nearing midnight, and still Zayn had not arrived. I had texted him, called him, and even resorted to direct messaging him on Twitter, and still. Nothing. 

Retrieving the emergency pack of smokes I had taped under my computer desk, I lit one. Closing my eyes and attempting to maintain my composure, I inhaled the smoke as deeply as my lungs would allow. He’s not coming. He’s not coming. He’s not coming. My mind repeatedly screamed at me. My eyes shot open when I heard the front door slam.

A few moments later, Harry materialized at my bedroom door, leaning heavily against the frame.

I swiveled around in my chair, not bothering to extinguish my cigarette. “You’re home early.” I assessed pointedly, blowing numerous rings of smoke from my mouth. I wasn’t expecting Harry home until early the next morning, if not in the afternoon.

Harry’s green eyes were on me for a moment, and then he nodded in defeat. “Yeah,” He said with a chuckle. “Amelia and I didn’t exactly hit it off.” He emphasized, and I could not help but let out a loud bark of laughter. Just then Harry’s eyes flickered to my computer screen, a deep grimace appearing on his face. Turning my head, I saw that I had left a photo of Zayn open. Scrambling to switch off the monitor, I could feel my face burning.

A worried expression appeared on Harry’s face. “Zayn never came, did he?” He asked quietly, even though the answer was quite obvious.

“No.” I replied with a sniff, averting my eyes from Harry’s as I tapped the ash from my cigarette.

Harry nodded in reply, deciding to forego the topic of Zayn altogether. “Are you heading to bed then?” He inquired, scratching the back of his head.

“I was actually thinking of watching a movie.” I informed him, gesturing to my television and then extinguishing my cigarette against the cover of a textbook from last semester.

“Let me guess,” Harry asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to think deeply. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” He announced ceremoniously, his pink lips breaking into an all out grin.

I could not help but laugh. “The one and only.” I grinned, plucking the DVD from my shelf of movies. Anyone that knew me at all knew that Breakfast at Tiffany’s was a movie I watched religiously, at least once a month if time allowed for it. “Would you care to join?” I offered, waving the DVD back and forth.

Harry hesitated for a moment, at last taking a step into my room. “Sure, why not.” He smiled warmly, knowing that some company would likely help cheer me up. And so we watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and when I finally allowed myself to burst into tears halfway through the movie, Harry allowed me to cry on his shoulder, just as a good brother would.

 

*

I woke to the sound of something hitting my bedroom window. The sound was consistent, quiet, but loud enough to have roused me. Jolting upwards, I glanced around my room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and recognizing the sleeping form of Harry beside me. Harry’s chest rose and fell in slumber, his lips parting as he mumbled something in his sleep, shifting on his side. The sound continued, and somewhere in my mind I was able discern it as the deflection of pebbles against glass. Carefully sliding off my bed, I made my way over to the window, shifting the pink chiffon curtains aside. Allowing my eyes to scan the ground below, I was met with the unmistakable sight of Zayn peering up at me.

“Shit.” I hissed in the darkness, diving to retrieve the robe that was draped over my computer chair. Struggling in the darkness to slide my arms into the silk sleeves, I took another glance at Harry, the moonlight illuminating his boyish face. Feeling a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I slipped out of my bedroom, gently closing the door behind me in hopes that I wouldn’t wake him.

A few moments later, I was sliding open the glass door in the living room, descending into the cool August night. Zayn was sitting at the bottom of the patio’s steps, waiting for me. He stood as soon as I came into view, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it again. 

We stood in silence for a moment, a light breeze billowing the fabric of my robe. “Where were you?” I asked him, crossing my arms across my chest.

Zayn stared at me momentarily, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “At home.” He revealed quietly, lifting his gaze to meet with mine.

“Why?” I breathed.

Zayn looked upwards, glancing at the moon as it dipped behind the clouds. “I was scared.” He explained, looking back towards me.

“Of me?” I inquired, not offended, but genuinely curious.

A deprecating smile appeared on Zayn’s lips and he shook his head. “Of hurting you again.”

Frustrated, I let out a long sigh. “Which you did,” I snapped, my lower lip beginning to tremble. “By not coming tonight!” I concluded with a yelp.

In two short strides, Zayn had closed the gap between us, his thumb delicately brushing my lip. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Odette.” Zayn choked out, his eyes searching mine.

I took a laborious breath, a pained smile appearing on my lips. “Then stop running from me.” I whispered.

“Come on tour with me.” Zayn blurted out, his eyes drilling into mine and his palm against my cheek.

I blinked at him, certain that I had imagined his words. “With you?” I confirmed, Zayn’s smile growing at my words.

“If you’ll have me.” He grinned, unable to speak further once I crushed my lips against his.

Zayn’s lips gently moved against mine, my fingers trailing the familiar longitude of his jaw line. Pulling back for air, Zayn grinned at me, the moonlight refracting off his dark irises. “I’ll see you in a few days then.” Zayn whispered, leaning in to kiss me again.

“I can’t wait.” I whispered, suddenly realizing that none of this was a dream conjured up by my turmoil, that it was all real. And with that Zayn’s hand slipped from mine, and he disappeared into the night.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I glanced back up at the moon as it reared its head once again, noting that I had never seen it look more beautiful. Smiling to myself, I decided I should head back inside. Turning around to climb back up the patio’s steps, it was just in time to see my bedroom curtains quickly fall back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the kudos! Would love to know what you think so far! I will be posting as often as possible (every two days) until we are caught up!
> 
> Music: Blue Moon - Elvis Presley
> 
> What to expect in the next chapter titled: 'Hunger': One Direction's tour of Europe kicks of in Paris, France. A night out at the trendy night club Le Cab spurs both trouble as well as revelations.


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette finds herself partying it up with Zayn, Harry and the others at celebrity hotspot Le Cab. When a bout of insecurity leads to trouble for Odette, who will come to her rescue?

Paris, France

“Fuck me, fuck me.” I found myself begging repeatedly.

I was pressed against the mattress as Zayn plowed into me, the pristine white sheets bunched up beneath our naked, writhing bodies. I let out a shrill whimper, throwing my head back once I began to feel the sensation of orgasm building in my core. I wrapped my legs tightly around Zayn’s body, drawing him closer so that he was filling me up entirely, every inch of me. Zayn repeatedly bashed against my sex, and I could feel the embers of pleasure at last catching fire. I let out quick hot breaths, my body slowly inching its way up a steep incline, just as a rollercoaster would before its chaotic descent.

Panting, Zayn let out a low growl, feverishly pumping into me once, and then again, his dark hair matted with sweat. Wildly bucking his hips against mine, Zayn bit into my shoulder as he came roughly, his hot seed shooting into me. Panicking, I feigned coming also, mimicking the full body shudders that I hungered for so deeply, not wanting Zayn to feel unaccomplished. Zayn’s body collapsed against mine a moment later, crushing the air from my lungs.

The both of us were gasping for breath still, Zayn lifting his head from my shoulder after a few seconds. His dark eyes were boring into mine, a droplet of sweat trailing its way down his forehead. “I could fuck you all day.” Zayn whispered as he swept my matted hair from my eyes, leaning in and placing a forceful kiss on my lips.

“I love you.” I accidentally blurted out when Zayn pulled back, my stomach plummeting once I realized the words that had spilled out of my mouth. Fool! I inwardly screamed at myself. This is what had caused him to run the last time!

Zayn was hovering over me still, blinking in astonishment. Swallowing, Zayn rolled onto his back, my breath hitching at the sudden emptiness I felt with him no longer inside me.

“You want room service?” Zayn inquired as if he hadn’t heard me, stretching over to pick up the hotel phone.

Nodding, I averted my gaze, feeling a barrage of tears beginning to form in the corners of my eyes. “Sure.” I replied quietly, pulling the sheets over my exposed breasts.

At this, Zayn pressed the phone against his ear and dialed for the front desk. “I’d like a menu sent up, please, and a wakeup call for three.” Zayn told the concierge, leaving us enough time to have a quick nap before sound check for the concert later that night.

Gazing out the large windows of Le Burgundy Paris, The fire in my core had extinguished, and I was unfulfilled and hungry still.

Or as the French called it, faim.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regardless of how often the sentiment was repeated, it still did not tarnish the truth –that Paris truly was majestic at night. 

 

Following a thundering round of applause at the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy, the boys had quickly piled into their black SUVs, flanked by endless amounts of security and a handful of police escorts to accompany them back to the hotel. Danielle, Eleanor, and I were driven back separately, reaching Le Burgundy Paris long before the boys. We sipped on Cristal and nibbled on Ladurée macarons while we waited, entertaining a night out on the town which in itself was a mental thought. However, when Zayn, Harry and the others returned to the hotel and were still buzzing from their show, it was decided that we would chance being mobbed. And so around two in the morning, we slipped past security and ordered a pair of limousines, Louis, Eleanor, Danielle, Harry and I pouring into one while Liam, Niall, and Zayn rode in the other. This was where we were sitting right then.

We haphazardly pulled up to a red light, a smile tugging at my lips as I watched a group of twenty-something French girls stumble down Place Du Palais, likely towards the same destination as we were –with one exception however. We were actually getting in.

“You got fucked today, didn’t you?” Danielle piped up from beside me, offering me a shit-eating grin. Danielle was clad in a skin tight gold-toned dress that hugged her sculpted dancer’s body, while her curly hair had been tamed into a high pony-tail.

“Danielle.” I scolded her, giving her a glare to which she heeded no warning. She always seemed to get a rather nasty mouth when inebriated.

Danielle’s grin grew wider, and she turned her head of voluminous golden curls to Eleanor. “Odette has that just-fucked look about her, doesn’t she Eleanor?” Danielle inquired to which I let out an irritated growl.

For Danielle’s information, I had just been fucked, and it wasn’t all that fulfilling. The entire day had continued that way, feeling as if I had a sneeze that just wouldn’t come out, an itch that I just couldn’t scratch. Letting out a long breath, I knew that a run through the trails in Cheshire would likely solve all of this pent-up energy.

“You and Zayn are back at it already?” Eleanor exclaimed in disbelief, trailing her fingers along Louis’ forearm and all the new tattoos he had recently added to his arsenal. Eleanor had chosen to wear a simple black one-sleeved dress that she had paired with matching pumps, adorned with spikes on the heel.

“Yes!” I growled, scowling at her. “But it’s really none of your business!” I emphasized, reaching into my clutch in order to reapply my lipstick. We would be reaching Le Cab soon, and I wanted to look my best in case anyone managed to snap a photograph. And so I had dressed my best, donning a pale pink Flapper inspired dress, embroidered with sequins and a fringed hem and a staggering pair of mint coloured Jimmy Choos. I hadn’t known what exactly to do with my hair, and so I had ended up wearing it down, falling across my shoulders in loose waves. 

“I love Zayn,” Louis began, his eyebrows raised in skepticism. “But did you really learn nothing from the last time, Odette?”

“Can we please change the subject?” Harry interjected from the far side of the limo, his green eyes flickering to mine for a moment and then back to his phone. Harry was dressed in his usual clubbing attire, black jeans, dark boots, and a navy blue dress shirt with the sleeves folded past his forearms.

“Yes, can’t we?” I said emphatically, slamming my compact shut and shoving it back into my clutch. “You’re making Harry uncomfortable.” I insisted, just as the limousine came to a halt in front of Le Cab.

“First round’s on Harry!” Danielle yelped, downing the remainders of the limousine provided champagne and jolting out, heading directly for Liam, Zayn, and Niall who were conversing with the bouncers.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He said with a half-smile, a chorus of screams resounding when Harry also emerged from the limo.

Grinning, I followed behind Harry, wondering how he was able to deal with it all, even after having been in the limelight for the past five years. Security helped us along, Harry, Louis, Eleanor, and I easily making our way over to Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Danielle. I pushed past Harry, and was at last pushed up against Zayn. “You alright babe?” He said with a crooked grin, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Now that I’m with you.” I quipped back with a grin. Zayn smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, a five-o-clock shadow already forming on his cheeks. I could feel the hunger creep up again, the want for a gust of wind in the desert, for a drink of water after a long run. I licked my lips, wanting for Zayn to cure my appetite. 

“She’s with me.” Zayn and Harry both said to the bouncer.

Zayn and I turned to Harry who gaped back at us. Seeming to have realized his mistake, his cheeks reddened. Harry was so used to telling everyone who I was that it had apparently become a bad habit.

“I’m not just your sister anymore, Harry.” I grinned, punching Harry lightly on the arm. “I'm Zayn's girlfriend now.”

Harry smiled back, running a hand through his thick curls. “Right, I forgot. Sorry.” He told me, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The bouncers at last decided to let us inside, and true to what was said about Le Cab, it didn’t disappoint. The dance floor was wall-to-wall with dancing bodies, the thicket of girls and boys moving as one entity to the rich electronic music. The lights were flickering so rapidly that I could barely see a few feet in front of myself. A wave of relief washed over me as Zayn clutched my hand into his, tugging me behind him towards the bar. Looking over my shoulder I saw that the others were not far behind, Harry bobbing his head to the music as he followed us. Harry was oblivious to the numerous girls that had already noticed him, star-struck with their mouths hanging agape.

Once we reached the bar, Zayn slid his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. I could not help but smile in satisfaction at the thousands of jealous glares directed my way.

Zayn held up two fingers to the bartender, and as if the bartender was a mind reader, he placed two large glasses onto the counter, filling them with gin and soda. 

Qui dit etudes dit travail,

Qui dit taf te dit les thunes,

Qui dit argent dit depenses,

Qui dit credit dit creances, 

Qui dit dettes te dit huissier, 

Eh oui dit assis dans la merde.

Draining my drink, I could feel the alcohol coursing through my veins. Not having eaten all that much during the day it had rushed directly to my head. Niall was gossiping to Zayn, showing him a picture of a tiny brunette on his phone and asking for advice. I studied Zayn in my drunken stupor, his perfect face, and when he turned to smile at me, my heart literally skipped a beat, and I realized that I couldn’t possibly be happier. Just then, Harry materialized beside me, his gaze directed at my empty drink.

“Don’t over-do it Odette.” Harry warned me, a grimace appearing on his lips. 

I let out a scoff. “Please, Harry. This is only my first one!” I told him snidely, seeing Eleanor and Danielle squeezing their way out of the crowd and towards us. “And what happened to the first round of drinks being on you?” I added since I knew it would irritate him.

“Yeah, Harry!” Danielle interjected, leaning heavily against Eleanor.

Harry glared at us, dramatically rolling his eyes after a moment. “Fine.” He drawled in defeat, turning to signal the bartender. “Three tequilas please.” He told them, reaching into his pocket and handing the bartender 40£. "Keep the change." Harry told him.

“You mean four!” I exclaimed, Harry turning to glower at me.

“You’re not having one.” He implored, his green eyes blazing.

The bartender had finished pouring the shots, and I quickly snatched one, knocking it back. Harry watched on with narrowed eyes and then shook his head in disappointment. “Ah. Thanks, Harry.” I sighed, slamming the empty shot glass onto the bar, a shit-eating grin appearing on my face. “Come on ladies, let’s go dance.” I suggested, pushing Eleanor and Danielle towards the dance floor and simultaneously flipping the bird at Harry over my shoulder.

Alors on danse

Alors on danse

Alors on danse

The three of us managed to make it to the edge of the dance floor, throwing our heads back and allowing for the music to flow through us. I pushed my hair back away from my face, shrugging off a very good-looking French boy who wanted to dance. I was taken now, and would do nothing to jeopardize my fresh start with Zayn. Craning my head over the crowd, I attempted to spot when Niall and Zayn were, my stomach plummeting when I saw that they were chatting with the same girl from the picture as well as her very pretty red-headed friend.

“Voudrez-vous du pilules?” A voice drew me from my thoughts, yelling over the music. Turning back, I saw that talking to us was a boy of around twenty, with coffee coloured skin and a shaved head.

“What?” Eleanor yelled back at the boy in confusion.

“Pills!” He repeated, in English this time, his French accent thick. “You want pills?” He said, unearthing a clear baggie of pills from his pocket and waving it about.

“No!” Danielle exclaimed in disgust. “Now fuck off!”

Turning back to glance at Zayn and Niall, I saw that Niall and the dark haired girl had deserted the area, Zayn and the red-head chatting in their wake. I began to shake, Zayn leaning his head to the side so that he could hear the bitch more clearly.

“How much?” I turned back to the boy, reaching into my clutch to pull out a wad of cash.

“Soixante dolleurs.” He replied, glaring at Danielle and Eleanor for a moment before returning his gaze to me.

I handed him a stack of bills, sure that it would cover it. Taking the notes into his hand, he quickly began to count them, and satisfied he shoved them into the pocket of his hoodie. “Bon chance.” He told me, placing two pills into my hands. And with that he left us, parting through the crowd in search of other customers. I placed one of the pills into my clutch for later.

“You’re not actually going to take that are you?” Danielle shrieked.

I grinned. “Of course I am.” I sing-songed. I wanted to feel good, wanted to be happy. I was Zayn’s, but Zayn would never be completely mine, and this was something I had to accept. I would need help to do that however, and this was exactly what would help me.

“Odette, you can’t!” Eleanor said, her voice panicked.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Watch me.” And with that I swallowed the pill.

Alors on danse

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was tweaking –badly. Rushing for the exit, I found myself outside of Le Cab, desperate for fresh air. Sighing, I leaned against the damp brick wall, retrieving a cigarette from my clutch and lighting it. I prayed that it would help me come down, but at this point I was still in the midst of my high. The world was spinning, and all I could think of was Zayn and what a failure I was. Taking a drag from my smoke, I allowed myself to slide against the wall until I was sitting, the cool cement frigid against my skin.

 

Just then, a group of men stumbled out of the same exit as I had, drunkenly laughing in French. One of them turned and spotted me on the floor and then began to whisper to his friends. I drew my knees close to my chest when I saw that they were approaching me.

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.” One of them began, crouching down and flashing me a toothy smile. “Pourquoi es-tu seul?”

I lifted my head, giving him a disgusted look. “I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.” I told him, rubbing my temples which had began to throb.

The boy looked surprised. “An English bitch! Merde, I was not expecting that.” He exclaimed, his group of friends busting out into a series of hoots. He leaned towards me then, as if he was telling me a secret. “I hate the English.” He drawled.

“Go fuck yourself.” I hissed, and with that he grabbed my wrist, yanking me to my feet. My screams echoed throughout the alleyway. He grabbed my hair then, snapping my neck back. “Ferme ta bouche!” He growled, his grip disappearing from my neck as he was pulled off of me. I lost my balance and was thrown roughly to the ground.

Opening my eyes, the first thing that I saw was Harry. Harry. A wave of relief washed over me, my eyes beginning to tear up in shame and fear of what could have just happened. Behind him stood Liam and Louis, looking much more menacing than the French boy and his friends.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” Harry roared, his green eyes blazing and his fists clenched against his sides. He looked more menacing than I had ever seen him before, his entire frame shaking with anger.

The French boy let out a laugh, sauntering right up to Harry despite that fact that Harry towered over him. Harry looked down on him in disgust, his chest heaving and his nostrils flared.

“Or what?” The French boy said. “You’ll sing me to death?” He taunted, clearly recognizing who Harry was.

That was all that Harry needed. In a flash, the French boy was on the ground, Harry on top of him, punching him repeatedly in the face. The sound of bone against bone echoed throughout the alleyway. Blood began to gush from the boy’s face, yet Harry still did not stop, his teeth clenched in concentration and his fist continually smashing into the boy’s face. Louis and Liam struggled to pull him off, the French boy’s friends breaking into a run and abandoning him altogether.

"Harry, that's enough!" Louis yelled.

“HARRY!” I screamed, jumping to my feet. “STOP! STOP IT!” I shrieked, and finally Harry was on his feet, kicking the French boy in the side for good measure.

He turned to me, the fire in his green eyes slowly burning out, his fists stained with blood. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.” He told me definitively, and even in my drugged up stupor, I knew that now was not the time to argue with him. Harry brushed past me, heading towards the other end of the alleyway. I opened my mouth to speak, however no words came out. In defeat, I followed behind Harry, glancing back at Liam and Louis, sadly waving goodbye.

Continuing on through the alley, we turned right. I averted my eyes from Harry’s, directing them towards the ground instead. I attempted to concentrate on my walking, finding it increasingly hard to do so and hoping that we would have a relatively quiet walk back.

“I just knew you’d pull something like this.” Harry spat at me, erasing my wish for silence. "I knew you coming on tour with us would be a disaster! Mum would have my head if anything had happened to you!" He yelled, pausing to flex his hand and then wincing in pain.

I could feel my lip trembling. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. "Is your hand alright?" I inquired, seeing that the skin on Harry's knuckles had split open and were wet with a mixture of the French boy's blood as well as his own.

"It's fine." Harry cut me off, knowing that I was trying to steer the conversation in another direction. “Why were you alone?” Harry began his interrogation, just as I hoped he wouldn't. I made the mistake of looking at him. Harry's green eyes were trained on me, and for a moment I thought that they held pity. “Where was Zayn?” He added hesitantly.

I swallowed hard, feeling myself sway from left to right. “I don’t know.” I admitted to him weakly, stopping to lean against the wall.

“Are you on something?” Harry exclaimed suddenly, grabbing my face and observing my eyes. I was too weak to shove him away. “You have to tell me, Odette!” He yelled, his voice filled with panic. 

“Please don’t be mad.” I pleaded, tears leaking out of my eyes.

Harry let out a terrified sigh, running his hands through his hair. “What did you take Odette?” He asked me, his green eyes boring into mine.

“I don’t know what it’s called.” I told him weakly, unable to carry my weight anymore and sliding against the wall. “In my purse.” I told Harry, suddenly remembering that I had saved one of the pills for later.

Ripping open my clutch, Harry took out the pill and examined it, letting out a relieved sigh. He then tossed the second pill out of sight. “You’ll be fine. All you need is sleep.” He informed me gently. The last thing I remembered was being lifted off the ground, Harry heaving me over his shoulder and taking me back to the hotel as he’d promised he would.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke in my hotel room a few hours later, my head throbbing and still drunk. Running my hand over the opposite side of the bed, I hoped that I would feel Zayn’s presence. All I felt instead was the cool and vacant mattress. Glancing outside I saw that the sky was just beginning to lighten and that perhaps everyone was still out. Looking to my left, I saw that waiting for me on the bedside table was a large glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. Reaching for the glass, I gulped the water down hungrily, silently thanking Harry for his foresight.

 

Throwing myself back onto my pillow, I attempted to fall back asleep. A moment later, a loud series of bangs sounded from down the hallway, a pair of voices drunkenly laughing –a male and a female. The sounds grew louder, the talking muffled by loud kissing, the girl letting out a loud moan. The door next to mine opened and then slammed closed; Harry’s room. My face began to flush, realizing that Harry had brought a girl back from Le Cab with him. The loud bangs continued, and I jumped when one sounded right against our shared wall. The girl began to moan, the banging against the wall growing faster, more desperate.

They were fucking.

I covered my mouth in shock, the hunger returning with a vengeance. I was tingling all over, still unfulfilled by my early morning tryst with Zayn. Without thinking, I drunkenly stuck my hand up my dress and into my underwear, beginning to rub myself in furious circles. My breaths grew quick and hot, the banging from across the wall increasing in speed. I was panting, arching myself towards my hand. I began to move my hand quicker, feeling myself getting closer and closer. From across the wall, one final bang sounded, and I could hear a series of explosive moans. Letting out a throbbing cry, I began to shudder all over, thrusting into my hand as I came.

Gasping for air, I realized that I was satiated, fulfilled at last.

I was no longer hungry.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Waking early the next morning, I turned over, seeing that Zayn had still not returned. Had he been worried about me? Had he wondered if I returned to the hotel alright, or was he perhaps, too intrigued by the red-headed girl to notice? Pangs of sorrow shot through me, but I swore that I would not cry. I had the rest of the tour to survive, and I would likely be needing my tears then. Groaning, I untangled myself from the sheets, deciding that I should go and see if Danielle and Eleanor had returned to their rooms safely.

As I slipped my arms into a hotel provided robe, I heard movement from the other side of the wall, memories of what I had done rushing back to my mind. I began to blush in shame, covering my face with my hands. I was extremely drunk and clearly under the influence of drugs, and so I decided to forget about it, knowing that I wasn’t of sound mind the previous night.

Opening the door of my room, I poked my head out into the hallway. Seeing that it was deserted, I stepped out, just as the door to Harry’s room swung open. Out came a small blonde haired girl, dashing past me quickly, but still managing to give me a rather pleasant smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments are much appreciated :)
> 
> What we learned this chapter:
> 
> \- Odette is very insecure when it comes to Zayn  
> \- Harry rescues her from a ground of would-be-rapists  
> \- Odette's hunger has finally subsided, but not in the way she expected it to
> 
> What to expect next chapter:
> 
> \- Who is the blonde girl that left Harry's room?  
> \- What will Zayn think of Odette's reckless behaviour?   
> \- The next stop on One Direction's tour is Stockholm, Sweden
> 
> xo


	4. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette and the others are headed for Stockholm Sweden. After a heated encounter with Harry, Odette and the others find themselves at a swanky party hosted by One Direction's hotshot music producer, Oskar Ekstrom.

I watched the blonde girl’s retreating back, a frown appearing on my lips as she rounded the corner. Harry was _such_ a whore sometimes, I thought, letting out a disgusted sound. First Amelia, and now this bint. Who knew what god-awful cesspit he would retrieve his next conquest from. I began to make my way down the hallway as well, my head still pounding from the previous night. Things could have turned out very differently if it hadn’t been for Harry. Thinking back to the sinister French boy’s face, it was likely if not for Harry, I may not have made it back to the hotel at all. An involuntary blush appeared on my cheeks, the hazy memory of my fingers desperately moving against myself rearing its head. Unable to stomach the shame I felt, I pushed the dark thought into the furthest corner of my mind and locked it up with no intention of revisiting it ever again.

“Odette!” Zayn’s voice echoed from further down the hallway.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that a grinning Zayn was jogging towards me. With a petulant huff, I snapped my heard forward again, quickening my pace. Just like the last time, Zayn was acting like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t betrayed me, humiliated me. Had he even noticed I was gone, nearly attacked by a group of aggressive French boys? Or had he been too preoccupied with ginger minger to give a damn? Part of me wanted to know the answer to my questions, while the other part knew I would self-destruct once I heard them.

“ _Hey_.” Zayn emphasized when he reached me, taking hold of my wrist and pulling me towards him. “How are you feeling?” He inquired, his dark eyebrows furrowed with worry. Zayn looked perfect as always, fresh-faced with clear brown eyes in spite of little sleep. I observed his face momentarily, wishing with all of my heart that that I had both the good sense and strength to hate him.

“As if you care.” I let out a scoff, disguising my sorrow for anger as I snatched my hand from Zayn’s grasp. I could not let Zayn know of the power he truly had over me, of the ability he had to render me mad.

Zayn narrowed his eyes at me, taking a step forward. “What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” He cried indignantly, his dark eyes blazing like a pair of smoldering black coals.

“Admit it! You were too busy chatting up that little slut last night to give a fuck about me.” I countered, putting up a formidable front and not allowing myself to give in to Zayn like I had every other time. It was so easy for him to make me feel weak. A crooked grin of flutter of his heavy lashes, and I was doomed. But not this time, I vowed to myself. I would win this time. I would have the power.   

Zayn let a frustrated growl, tugging on his disheveled black hair. “Is that how it’s going to be?” His voice grew louder, irritation building in his core. “I fuck up once and you never let me hear the end of it? For fuck’s sake, Odette!” He yelled throwing his arms up in defeat.

Unwanted tears sprung to my eyes. “You didn’t even check on me last night, did you?” I sputtered, angrily wiping my eyes and not giving a fuck that the entire floor could likely hear our exchange.

Zayn let out a long sigh, pulling me towards him by my shoulders. I attempted to escape from his grip, but my efforts were futile. Zayn stared at me for a long time before speaking, his brown eyes drilling into mine. “Who do you think brought you water, Odette?” He inquired gently after a full minute, tilting my chin upwards so that I was looking into his eyes. “Who do you think brought you medicine?” He went on.

I was unable to tear my gaze from Zayn’s, an enormous wave of guilt washing over me. It hadn’t been Harry who left the water and medicine for me after all. “Oh.” I answered in a small voice. “Oh Zayn…” I trailed off, unable to emphasize how sorry I was for going off and thinking the worst of him again. Would I ever learn? Would I ever learn to trust him again? And most of all, would I ever be able to except that perhaps this time, I Odette Styles, am _enough_ for Zayn Malik? Closing my eyes, I allowed my head to fall against Zayn’s chest.

“The only reason I was talking to Emma in the first place was so that Niall could hit it off with her friend. Was just trying to be a good mate and help him out.” Zayn explained tenderly, the vibration of his voice reverberating in my ear.

Looking up to peer into his eyes, I nodded, not showing the fact that he knew her name bothered me. “I’m sorry.” I apologized, a self-deprecating smile appearing on my lips. “Forgive me?” I pleaded softly, thinking that I truly had over-reacted. Zayn was only helping Niall, and he had checked on me, just like a good boyfriend would. Zayn _was_ a good boyfriend, he _was_ good to me. I decided quickly that I would not inform Zayn about the events that had transpired during Le Cab –the pills, the French boy, Harry fighting him. I noted that I would have to swear Harry, Liam, as well as Louis to secrecy when I had the chance. It would be no easy feat, but I was sure with some minor threatening I would be able to do it.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Zayn said earnestly. Tucking a lock of blonde hair behind my ear, a ghost of a smile tugged at Zayn’s lips.

Just then, the door to Harry’s room swung open. Zayn and I turned to see Harry standing at the doorway, green eyes still blurry with sleep and hair swooped to one side, an astonished expression appearing on his face when he saw us. Harry was shirtless, the tattooed expanse of his chest rising and falling as he observed us in silent. Harry looked from me to Zayn and then back to me, his surprised expression morphing into disappointment. I could feel my face warm again, my self-exploration to the sound of Harry and his lady friend fucking breaking loose from its chains. What Harry would think of me if he knew, I reflected in horror.

“Hi.” I managed to breathe after a moment.

Harry corked an eyebrow upwards, subconsciously cracking his knuckles which were still bloody from the previous night. I widened my eyes at him, praying that he would not mention anything to Zayn. If Zayn came to know the whole truth regarding Le Cab, perhaps, he would not have been so quick to forgive me.

“ _Hi_.” Harry answered flatly, his green eyes flickering to Zayn again.

 _Keep your filthy gob shut, Harry_! I screamed internally, hoping that the daggers my eyes were shooting at him would be enough of a hint.

Luckily, Zayn spoke up before Harry had the chance to ruin anything. “Harry you dog,” Zayn began with a shit-eating grin. “Heard you brought back some fit French girl last night.” He prompted teasingly, pulling me into his waist and draping an arm across my shoulders.

 

Harry glared at Zayn for a moment, a tight smile appearing on his lips. “Yeah. She was alright.” He replied flippantly, turning to give me saccharine smile. This was a threat, I knew, Harry’s way of showing that it was _he_ who had the power balanced in his hands. The power to break me or the power to make me whole again. I stared back at him, silently daring him to fuck with me.

“We’re about to head down for some breakfast.” Zayn continued, fleetingly looking down at me to confirm that the idea was a good one. I nodded slowly, turning to Harry with a forced smile on my lips. “Will you join us?” Zayn continued good-naturedly, rubbing my arm up and down.

Harry appraised the both of us, looking less than thrilled at the prospect. “S’alright, you two go. I got room-service on the way.” He mumbled, his green eyes flickering to mine. I smiled triumphantly, knowing that Harry had always been one to make threats, but had never really had the balls to see them through. Turning on his heel, Harry entered his room again, moving his arm to grab the door.

“Laters bro!” I smiled brightly, mouthing a silent “ _Keep your fucking mouth shut_ ” that only Harry could see. Green eyes blazing, Harry slammed the door in our faces, so roughly that the frame rattled for a few moments after.

Zayn turned to me, an odd look on his face. “That was weird, right?” He inquired.

“Who fucking knows.” I shrugged, taking Zayn’s hand into mine and tugging him behind me. “All I know is I’m _starved_.” I grinned at him over my shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed with an appetite I was sure I would never be able to curb.

*

 

After a long day of shopping with Danielle and Eleanor on Avenue des Champs-Elysées, Zayn told me to meet him on the rooftop of Le Burgundy Paris and that he had a surprise for me. Before making my way there, I had taken a little detour to Harry’s room in order to confirm his silence on the matter of Le Cab. After a few minutes of pounding on his door, Niall who was making his way towards his and Liam’s room told me that Harry and Louis had absconded to the streets of Paris in search for the perfect baguette. When I asked why they would ever do such a thing, Niall told me in not so many words that “Harry is a strange bloke” and that “you should know that by now being his sister and all.”

Taking the opportunity I had, I swore Niall to secrecy regarding what he had witnessed at Le Cab and went to on merry way towards my destination. Vowing that I would find Harry later, I slipped into the nearest elevator and pushed the silver button reading ‘rooftop’.  Breezing out from the elevator after a minute or so, a sign above told me that the stairway leading up was just past the steel door on the left.

Sweeping my wild blonde hair to one side, I pried open the heavy door and began to ascend the concrete steps, the howling of the wind audible even from where I was. Prying open a second steel door at the top of the stairs, a gust of wind instantly whipped my hair around my face. Pushing my hair from my eyes, I descended onto the rooftop, a coy smile finding my lips when I was met with the sight of Zayn. Patiently sitting at an intricately laid dining table, Zayn’s eyes were trained on the horizon. When the heavy steel door slammed shut behind me, his dark head turned my way.

“Hello.” I said, my smile growing wider. I had been so wrong to doubt him. He had done nothing but try to make amends for the past, had done nothing but try to make me happy.

Zayn got to his feet as I began to walk over to him, watching as I timidly observed his efforts. A traditional French red and white checkered tablecloth was draped over the circular dining table, two plates of steaming spaghetti and a basket of fresh buns sitting atop of it. The flame of the tall candle placed in the middle of the table flickered dangerously in the breeze.

“You look nice.” Zayn observed.

I appraised Zayn playfully in return. He was wearing a dark grey suit and a fitted black dress shirt beneath his jacket. If I didn’t know it already, I would never expect that beneath his clothes was an intricate display of tattoos.

“Thank you.” I whispered, happy that Zayn liked the lavender coloured sun dress I had purchased earlier that day. The colour brought out hints of gold and olive in my skin, achieved from spending the past few days in French sun. “This is beautiful Zayn, really.” I told him in earnest.

And with that Zayn made his way over to the other side of the table, chivalrously pulling out my chair so that I could sit. “What a gentlemen.” I cooed as Zayn tucked my chair in behind me, striding back to his own seat. Sitting down, he roughly began to unravel his napkin, placing it across his lap. Averting my eyes, he picked up his fork and skewered one of the steaming meatballs with it.

Perhaps he was tired, I reasoned. All five of the boys had been touring basically non-stop for two years, so it was understandable that at times that what they needed was a bit of peace and quiet from all the screaming fans. Picking up my fork as well, I shoved a large wad of spaghetti into my mouth. Glancing up from my dinner, I saw that Zayn was watching me chew, his eyes studying my face.

I swallowed my bite, a smile appearing on my lips. “Is there something on my face?” I inquired, reaching for my napkin and demurely dabbing my mouth.

Zayn’s dark eyes narrowed and he placed his fork against the side of his plate, his jaw clenching. “When were you going to tell me about what happened at Le Cab, Odette?” He inquired, his tone accusatory.

My jaw dropped in momentary shock. “… _That prick_ ….” I breathed at my realization. Harry had gotten to Zayn before I had even had the chance to prevent it. I clenched my fists, struggling to prevent myself from leaping up from my seat in order to hunt down Harry and strangle him to within an inch of his life.         

“Don’t be angry with Harry.” Zayn shot back, leaning back in his seat to assess me. The disappointment in his dark eyes almost had me screaming. “I’m glad he told me seeing as you _clearly_ weren’t planning to.” He spat.

Harry had ruined _everything_. My lower lip began to tremble violently. “It wasn’t a big deal, Zayn.”  I insisted, trying my best to hide the hysteria in my voice. Reaching my hand across the table, I attempted to take Zayn’s hand, my stomach plummeting when he recoiled it instead, placing it in his lap.

Zayn began to shake his head. “You took pills and you were almost attacked, I wouldn’t categorize that as anything _but_ a big deal, Odette” He announced incredulously.

I desperately stared at Zayn across the little dining table, wracking my mind for the right words. “It-it was a momentary lapse in judgment.” I managed to stammer after a moment. Zayn didn’t know, didn’t know that when I was with him, I had no sense of judgment, that I had no sense at all. I wasn’t the confident Odette Styles that I normally was. Instead I was unsure, intimidated, and mental even. _He just didn’t understand_.  

Zayn leaned forward in his seat. “A momentary lapse in judgment is when you put the wrong jam on your _fucking toast_ , Odette.” He explained, his tone bitter. “ _This_ ,” Zayn emphasized. “This was really fucking careless of you!” He growled.

Chest heaving, I could feel the volcanic pit of words I did not mean brewing in the pit of my stomach and eventually bubbling to life. “We all get careless sometimes Zayn.” I narrowed my eyes at him, my teeth clenched. “In fact, we get so careless; we end up sticking our prick in the WRONG. FUCKING. GIRL!” I was screaming then, my fork clattering as I threw it onto my plate.

Zayn jumped from his seat, knocking over his glass of wine in the process. “I can’t fucking hear this right now.” He said, storming towards the steel door through which I had entered.

“Zayn!” I screamed, jumping from my seat in order to stop him.

Prying open the steel door, Zayn was out of sight. Watching dumbly as the door slammed shut behind him, I began to scream. In the midst of a complete mental breakdown, I stormed back towards the dining table, sweeping my arms across the tablecloth until everything fell to the floor, the hotel’s fine china and wine glasses shattering on the concrete. Looking back to the table, I saw that one lone thing remained –a baguette, still warm to the touch. Picking it up, I screamed again, reminded that Harry and his big fucking mouth were to blame for this entire ordeal. Hysterically flinging the baguette from the roof, I stomped towards the exit as well, deciding to run off my frustrations in the hotel’s gym so that when I finally did speak to Harry, I wouldn’t end up murdering him.

*

I had never been so relieved to be up in the air.

Early that morning, we had at last said our goodbyes to France, boarding an early morning flight to Stockholm, Sweden. At liftoff, a huge wave of relief had washed over me. I had left behind my would be rapists and my drug fueled stupidity. However, what would follow me to Sweden was my fight with Zayn, betrayal by Harry, and of course my never ending hunger.

In the seat beside mine, Danielle let out a long sigh. “I’m going to miss all those sexy French accents.” She rambled absentmindedly, messing about with the small television in front of her.

“I sure as fuck wont.” I replied sourly, aggressively flipping through the copy of People Magazine I had purchased at one of the numerous shops in the terminal. Turning the page, I was met with a photograph of an inconspicuous Harry wandering a random street in Paris; clad in his usual all black ensemble and ray bans. Discreetly glancing over my shoulder, I could see the boys in their seats just to the left of us. Seated next to Liam, Zayn was asleep, his dark head lolled against the airplane’s small window. A sense of longing burned in my chest as I watched Zayn, his pink lips parted ever so slightly and his chest rising and falling evenly. We had not spoken since our disastrous rooftop dinner earlier that night, and it was all thanks to my good for nothing brother.

In the very last row behind Louis and Niall sat Harry, his head turned to the side and his green eyes trained out the window. Slumped back in his seat, his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans, the sleeves of his black t-shirt rolled up to expose his tanned arms. Harry was better at absorbing the sun’s light than most plants. While I had to fight for every bit of colour I achieved, Harry’s skin was always glowing healthily, sun kissed even in the dead of a British winter. Shifting my gaze back to Harry’s face, I noticed that he looked rather dazed and more disheveled than usual. His hair was unwashed, pointing in every which direction while a pair of dark bags had formed under his eyes. Deep in my observation, I jumped in my seat when lightning fast; his clear gaze flitted to mine. And as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, Harry getting to his feet and making his way towards the loo.

Without thinking, I was unbuckling myself from my seat, determined to make Harry pay for what he had done. Narrowing dodging a pissy looking flight attendant bitch, I took long and quick strides until I was a few steps behind Harry. Unaware of my presence behind him, Harry pushed open the metal door of the airplane’s small bathroom, slamming into the opposing wall when I shoved him from behind. Teeth clenched, I entered the loo as well, the door shutting gently behind me.

“You bastard!” I yelled, not caring if the entire plane heard me. Whirling around to face me, I saw that Harry’s lip had split down the middle, dark red blood beginning to ooze from the cut. His green eyes were wide, staring at me in disbelief as he placed his fingers to his lips. Pulling back his hand, the tips of his fingers were red with blood. “Bastard, bastard, bastard!” I went on hysterically, lunging forward and thumping Harry’s chest with my fists.

“That’s enough!” Harry roared, easily getting hold of my wrists and pinning me against the bathroom door. Harry was towering over me, his tired eyes blazing –a sea green ocean engulfed with flames. A waft of Harry’s familiar smell washed over me, the scent that I had always know and associated with him my entire life, Cheshire’s woods slightly infused with sweat. Both of us were breathing heavily, our chests heaving from exertion. “ _Let me go_.” I hissed, thrashing madly against Harry’s grasp, but unable to move even an inch away from the door. Harry was too strong, his hands clasping my wrists so tightly that I was certain they’d bruise later. The air was thick with tension, our glares unwavering. “You ruined everything.” I spat, angry tears rushing to my eyes. Perhaps it was what he wanted. From the start Harry had hated sharing his best friend with me, hated that on so many occasions I had taken Zayn away from him.    

Harry’s eyes narrowed. If I had thought he looked unkempt from a far, Harry looked even more disheveled up-close, his face hardly a few inches from mine. He hadn’t shaved in days, his chin and jaw littered with light brown stubble. “You did that well enough on your own by acting out like you did.” Harry said through clenched teeth, his grasp momentarily slacking. “According to you, you’re not a child anymore. If that’s the case, you had better stop acting like one, Odette!”         

Pulling one of my wrists free, I wound my arm back as far as it would go; slapping Harry across the face with all the strength I could muster. Staggering backwards, Harry’s grasp left my other wrist, setting me free. Regaining his balance, Harry stared at me in silence, his jaw clenching as a large red welt formed on his cheek. A small bit of guilt began to bubble in the pit of my stomach, but quickly, I snuffed it out.  

Not moving my gaze from Harry’s, I took a shaky breath. “You _promised_ that you would stop meddling. That you would stay out of my and Zayn’s business.” I choked out, my eyes wide. Why did Harry choose to torture me so? Why couldn’t he just let me be?

Harry’s face contorted. “ _Don’t you understand Odette_?” He roared, his green eyes wide with anger. “It becomes my business too when you start putting yourself at risk!” He jabbed himself in the chest.

Struck by Harry’s statement, I blinked at him dumbly. He cared for me, this I knew of course. Harry was my brother, but he couldn’t protect me forever, and he couldn’t protect me from everything, and this was something he needed to understand. Regaining my composure, I took a deep breath, standing at my full height which was still an entire head less than Harry’s. “I’m warning you for the last time, Harry.” I threatened coolly, taking a step towards him. “ _Stay the fuck out of my life_.” I concluded with a hiss, turning on my heel and prying open the door. Hearing the door shut behind me, I let out the sob I had been holding in, leaning my back against its cool metal. It was only the beginning of the tour, and somehow I felt that things would only be getting worse from there on.

*

Following a sold out performance at Friends Arena, we were invited to an exclusive party at Sweden’s hotshot music producer, Oskar Ekstrom’s villa in the mountains. At the age of twenty-one, Oskar had been the driving force behind ‘Take Me Home’s’ success, and at age twenty-four, had assisted One Direction in breaking every record set in the history of boy bands. Their newest album, ‘True Colours’ had even surpassed Justin Bieber’s ‘Strength’, a feat they never had deemed possible before its release. Although I was loath to admit it, my favourite track on the album was still Harry’s solo track that he and Oskar had written together, ‘Always’. It was playing right then in the limousine as we raced towards the mountains where Oskar’s home was located.

_Out of sight_

_Out of mind_

_You’re always in my heart_

_It isn’t right_

_It’s out of line_

_You’ve always been the one_

_You’ve always been the one_

Harry’s voice rung through the drunken chatter in Oskar’s personal stretch limousine. Gingerly sipping on a glass of pink champagne, I stole a glance at Harry who had seated himself on the extreme opposite of the car, once again clad in all black –tight pants and a crisp button-up dress shirt. I had lost count of how many drinks he had had since departing from Friends, but it appeared that he was halfway through his fifth beer. Observing Harry’s face, it was a relief that the makeup artists had been able to make him look presentable and not like he had been roughed up by his little sister earlier that day. Glancing at his left cheek, I could see that its redness through the makeup. It wouldn’t be obvious to another person, however, to a person that hadn’t inflicted it. Since our altercation on the flight to Sweden, Harry had not spared me one look, and I couldn’t exactly blame him for this.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I glanced over at Zayn, watching as he rolled a joint in deep concentration, twiddling at the ends of the zigzag until it was perfect. Plucking a lighter from his pocket, Zayn lit the end of it, his dark eyes flickering to mine as he took a long drag. He knew what it did to me, when he smoked. I had confessed long ago that watching him smoke had always left my core burning, throbbing for him. I crossed my legs, attempting to quell the smoldering between my thighs. Opening his mouth, Zayn blew out a long breath of smoke, his eyes not leaving mine as he did it. Passing the blunt to Louis, a smirk tugged at Zayn’s lips. There he went again, trying to win, trying to assert his power. Angrily, I looked away, grateful when I saw that Eleanor was topping my glass with more champagne. Lifting it to my lips, I downed the entire glass, taking the bottle from Eleanor’s grasp and pouring another.

“Slow down Dettie!” Eleanor slurred, attempting to take the bottle from me.

Scowling, I continued to pour. There was no way that I would survive the night without being completely and utterly pissed. “You know I fucking _hate_ when you call me that.” I growled at Eleanor.

“Oh shut up bitch, you love it.” Eleanor quipped, grabbing my face in her hands and placing a drunken kiss on my lips.

Within a few minutes, we had at last reached Oskar’s villa. Stepping out of the limousine, I began to rub my arms furiously, the Swedish summer night being far colder than Britain’s warmest winter night. Swooping over a hillside, Oskar’s three floor villa was incredibly modern. Crafted entirely from glass, inside you could see at least two hundred people if not more bustling about and drinking away to the bad house music oozing from Oskar’s state of the art sound system.

Brushing past my shoulder, Harry made his way towards the entrance to Oskar’s. Downing the last half of his beer in one swig, Harry slammed the empty bottle down onto the driveway with such great force that I flinched. Without a backwards glance, Harry plowed through the small crowd that had formed at the mouth of Oskar’s villa, his mop of curls disappearing into the crowd. I watched on in a mixture of anger, guilt, and frustration, knowing that I had been wrong for treating Harry the way I had.

“What’s with him these days?” Danielle inquired, quite obviously asking after Harry.

I stared on into the crowd, attempting to catch a glimpse of him and shaking my head in defeat when I didn’t. “Who fucking knows?” I sighed, taking the bottle of champagne from Danielle’s hands and taking a long swig. Feeling a hand gently graze my ass, I nearly began to choke. “Nice dress.” Zayn’s voice whispered into my ear as he and Niall breezed past me. When I turned to look at him, Zayn winked, giving me a once over before looking forwards. Smiling discreetly, I glanced down at the dress I had purchased from a French boutique whose name I had long forgotten. Flaring out at my waist, the dress was completely sheer and made from plastic, my matching La Perla bra and panty set visible to anyone who wished to see it. Eleanor and Danielle had both decided on a more conservative choice, Eleanor donning a maroon coloured long sleeved dress while Danielle had opted for a mint green peplum.

Raising my eyebrows suggestively at Eleanor and Danielle, the three of us linked arms and descended upon the party.

 

Shortly after we had entered, we were hailed by the man of the hour, Oskar Ekstrom himself. Stereotypically Swedish, Oskar had yellowish blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and angular features. Clad in a stylish grey suit, Oskar was attractive on the whole, however it still did not change the fact that he had been trying quite relentlessly, to fuck me since I was fifteen years old.

“Hello Oskar.” Eleanor slurred ceremoniously, making a sweeping gesture across the interior of his home. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Did you buy it all at the IKEA?” She asked drolly.

Oskar gave her a tight smile. He was the obnoxious type, mostly abhorrent but insatiably talented when it came to making music. “Thank you Eleanor.” Oskar said, not bothering to glance in her direction. His icy blue eyes were glued to me and had been since the moment he approached us. “I’d explain the intricate process that went behind designing my home but it’s far beyond the understanding of a Hollister floor model, I’m afraid.” He drawled in a light Swedish accent, taking a sip from his glass of strong looking scotch.

“ _Fuck this guy_.” Danielle exclaimed, taking hold of Eleanor’s hand.

Oskar smiled, at last turning his attention to Danielle and Eleanor. “Still a foul-mouthed bitch.” He said, an amused smile on his lips. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Danielle.”      

“Whatever you say pedophile.” She spat back in annoyance, turning to me. “Are you coming Odette?” She inquired, offering her hand to me.

Hesitantly, I turned to Oskar whose lips had formed into a pleasant smile. “I only wish to speak to you for a moment.” He told me, his blue eyes unreadable as he downed the last bit of his scotch.

“It’s alright, you two go.” I told Danielle and Eleanor who gave each other and unsure glance at my suggestion. “I’ll be fine.” I assured them, and with that Danielle nodded her voluminous head of curls once, tugging Eleanor behind her and further into the party. Glancing over her shoulder, Eleanor waved at me sadly before disappearing into the crowd.

Turning back to Oskar, I gave him a tight smile. “What the fuck do you want Oskar?” I inquired impatiently, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. Stealing a glance at the numerous people mulling about Oskar’s villa, I spotted Zayn standing in the far corner of the spacious living room, animatedly chatting with Louis. Sensing my gaze, his coal black eyes flickered to mine, a displeased look appearing on his face when he saw that I was chatting with Oskar. I celebrated internally, certain that I had regained the upper hand.

Oskar smiled wider, leaning towards me. “As fiery as ever.” He breathed, his pupils dilating.

I began to frown, taking a disgusted step backwards. “Listen, Oskar.” I told him sternly. “I’m with Zayn and there’s _nothing_ you can do that’s going to change that.” I doubted that this would get through to the talented Swede however, having said it countless times before. Oskar simply was not one to give up when he wanted something, or someone.

“No,” Oskar said, a wicked grin appearing on his lips when he spotted something over my shoulder. “But perhaps someone else is better suited for the job.” He said, gesturing behind me.

Just then, I noticed that the volume in the room had decreased to a dull roar, Oskar’s guests whispering away as they glanced behind me, their eyes curiously drifting over to me after a moment. Turning my head, it appeared that the entire room was staring at one girl in particular who had just breezed in through the entrance. The girl was strikingly beautiful, with long coal black hair and bright green eyes that stood out amongst the room of traditional looking Swedes. Dressed in a tight black dress and tiny fur coat, the girl’s body appeared to be flawless, with a small waist, notable hips, and a pair of natural looking breasts sitting comfortably on her chest. Slowly, something in my mind clicked and I turned to glance at Zayn again, seeing that the pallor of his face had paled significantly. Not glancing in my direction, the girl stopped to chat with what appeared to be a group of old friends, squealing with delight when she saw them.

“Who is that?” I turned to Oskar, who still wore a smile.

Swirling the melting ice cubes in his empty glass of Scotch, Oskar turned to smile at me. “Perhaps that is a question better suited for Zayn.” And with that he was off, returning to his duties as host.

It was then that I realized exactly who this girl was, and how she had anything to do with Zayn. Not allowing any sort of emotion to pass across my face, I turned on my heel, heading directly for Zayn who stood on the far side of the living room with Louis, heavily leaning against a wall. A horrified look appeared on Zayn's face, and he desperately kicked off from the wall to meet me.

“Odette-” He began, only to be cut off when my mouth met with his in a heated kiss.

Zayn was mine. And when I pulled away from Zayn’s lips for air, the expression which had appeared on the girl’s face told me that she knew it too. Taking Zayn’s hand into mine, I pulled him behind me. Taking a sharp right past a detached wall, I threw open the bathroom door, pushing Zayn inside.

“Odette, what are you doing?” Zayn asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I smiled seductively, sauntering towards Zayn. “Showing you who’s boss.” And with that, I planted my lips on Zayn’s, moaning when Zayn deepened the kiss, flitting his tongue into my mouth. Taking me by the waist, Zayn spun me around to face the counter. Planting one hand on the counter, I pulled up the skirt of my dress, tauntingly swaying my hips. Growling, Zayn quickly began to unbuckle his jeans. Freeing his throbbing member from the constraint of his briefs, he ripped down my black underwear, spitting on his hand to moisten me even though it was unnecessary. I was already wet for him.

Moaning as Zayn eased into me, he rested his hands on my waist and began to pump into me. Our eyes locked in the mirror as he fucked me. I bit my lip as Zayn thrust into me faster, frustrated that I could not yet feel the steep ascent of orgasm building in my core. Desperate for release, I furiously began to rub my clit, thinking back to the exhilarating sounds of Harry fucking a girl against our shared hotel wrong. It was sick, but in that instant I did not care. At last I could feel the sensation of orgasm building in my core, my breaths growing hotter and quicker. Recalling the last desperate bangs of Harry and the girl against the wall, I let out a sharp cry just as the door to the bathroom flew open. Shuddering as an earth-shattering orgasm washed over me, my eyes widened when I saw Harry standing at the mouth of the door. A mixture of shock and disgust appeared on Harry’s face as green his eyes took in the scene in front of him.

Still in the throes of orgasm, all I could manage was a guttural scream. Freezing, Zayn’s head shot towards the door, his eyes meeting with Harry’s. Nearly dropping the beer he held, Harry quickly reached for the door, closing it with a resounding slam. Letting out a low moan, Zayn’s eyes met mine in the mirror. We stared at each other, but for different reasons. Zayn stared at me, knowing that this would make things far more awkward for the three of us on the whole, while I stared back knowing that it hadn’t been Zayn who made me come.  

 

 

 

   

       

 

    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! How are you all liking everything so far? xo


	5. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her epiphany, Odette is disgusted with herself. Feigning an illness to get out of a day of skiing in the Alps, Odette finds that she isn't as alone as she thinks she is.

_Zurich, Switzerland_

Zayn stared at me from his seat at the edge of our bed, his dark eyebrows furrowed together in worry. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Zayn asked gently, continuing to rub my back in comforting circles. Normally his touch would soothe me, would banish whatever troubling thought was plaguing my mind in that moment. Today however, it suffocated me, choked me into panic.

Zayn was already dressed for the day of skiing and snowboarding in the Swiss Alps that I had decided to forego altogether, clad in dark grey snow pants, black snowboarding jacket, and a green toque. Staying conscious at this point was difficult enough. The thought alone of an exhausting day of skiing sent my head into a dizzying spin, as did the likelihood of having to see Harry.

I could feel the colour drain from my face, my entire body beginning to tremble as I silently recalled the party at Oskar’s villa in Sweden. “I’m sure.” I answered with a weak smile. I was eager to be rid of Zayn, desperate to be alone with my thoughts as well as a bottle of Grey Goose. “You go and have fun with the others.” I added, placing my hand on top of his and squeezing.

Zayn’s dark eyes searched mine for a moment, a smile at last appearing on his pink lips. “Alright.” He conceded softly, leaning forward to place a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Make sure you rest up.” He told me, sliding off our bed and slinging his rucksack over one shoulder. “I’ll see you later then, yeah?” Zayn said, shuffling quietly towards the door.

“Yeah.” I whispered, staring at Zayn’s retreating back and inwardly panicking; not at the fact that I hadn’t told Zayn I loved him, but at the fact that I didn’t want to. “ _Bye_.” I said as Zayn pried open the door to the hotel room, stepping into the hallway and longingly glancing at me once more.

“ _Bye_.” Zayn whispered with a smile, the expression in his brown eyes unreadable as he went to close the door.

Once the door slammed shut, a loud sob burst from within me. Throwing off the covers, I raced across the room and snatched my purse from the floor. Emptying its contents, I fell to my knees, my hands shaking as I sifted through all the useless shit now littering the floor. At last locating my lighter, I ripped open a new package of Marlboro’s, half of cigarettes exploding out of the packet and all around the hotel room. Anxiously placing one between my lips, I desperately rolled my thumb across my lighter’s switch, sighing in ecstasy when the bottom of my smoke lit. Inhaling deeply, I slumped again the hotel’s closet door, my gaze meeting with my reflection in the mirror. My blonde hair was matted and unwashed, piled on top of my head in a disheveled bun while streaks of yesterday’s and perhaps the day before’s mascara had encircled my brown eyes. There was no point in asking myself what was wrong when I already knew the answer.

Zayn, my boyfriend Zayn, the boy I had been in love with for years had not made me come. It had been Harry. My brother, Harry that had sent me spiraling towards the most inescapable, addictive climax I had ever experienced in my life. 

“ _No_!” I screamed to myself forcefully, picking up an abandoned Chuck Taylor and flinging it at the mirror. “ _No, No, No_!”

Chest heaving, I stared at my vibrating reflection, at last allowing myself to return to the night of Oskar’s party. Zayn had been fucking me, so insatiably in Oskar’s bathroom. With my hands planted on the counter, Zayn was ravenously hammering into me from behind, our eyes locked in the mirror. As Zayn thrust into me, I waited, waited for a spark, for the steep ascent of orgasm to build within me, for anything at all really. Yet there was nothing. Nothing but barrenness, dissatisfaction. On any other day I would be gushing at the seams for Zayn, but for the second time in the past two weeks, he could not seem to curb my appetite, my hunger.

In desperation of release, I could no longer deny myself, could no longer lock away my darkest thoughts and desires.

Reaching my hand around to my sex, I began to rub myself unforgivingly, freeing the sounds and vibrations of Harry fucking a girl against the shared wall of our hotel room from my mind’s restraints. Within seconds, I was plummeting, enveloped by the strongest and most violent orgasm I had ever experienced –so consuming that I couldn’t refrain my scream of ecstasy, even when the door to the bathroom flung open. My cries of joy however, suddenly morphed into horror, horror at the appearance of Harry at the door and of the truth regarding my hunger.

There Harry stood, the cause of all my problems and somehow my pleasure, his green eyes watching as an unassuming Zayn continued to plow into me, his fingers digging into my sides. My eyes locked with Harry’s, a strangled cry emerging from my lips as another wave of pleasure barreled over me –a wave that Harry was the cause of.

Opening my eyes, I was once again met with my disheveled reflection. _Could it be_? I pondered, taking another hysterical drag from my cigarette, allowing myself to at last address the question that had been plaguing me since Sweden. … _Was I attracted to my own brother_?

The thought alone sent me hurtling towards the hotel issued mini fridge, a feral sob emerging from my throat. Ripping open the door of the tiny fridge, I reached inside, wildly pawing around for the glass mickey of Grey Goose I had stored there the night before. Feeling the bottle’s cool surface below my fingertips, I secured it in my hands, ripping off the seal and tilting it against my lips. Forcing a large amount of the chemically infused vodka down my throat, I began to sputter, nearly vomiting up what I had just managed to force down.

Abandoning the mickey on the ground, I managed to heave myself back into bed, my heart thudding uncomfortably and my mind beginning to race. My eyes drifted towards the thin white wall our bed was pressed up against, and I found myself imagining that Harry was on the other side. If it had not been for our shared wall on the night we ventured to Le Cab, if I could have seen the green of Harry’s eyes, if I could have watched him plowing into the blonde French girl with no barriers, would the hunger I had felt still barrel over me? If I were to break the wall down between Harry and I, if I were to allow myself to experience Harry directly instead of indirectly –beyond the confines of a wall, what would happen? Would I feel nothing but disgust, or would I feel nothing but intrigue? Would I come harder, or would I not come at all?       

There was only one way to find out.

Allowing my gaze to drift back towards the full-length mirror in the corner of our hotel room, I once again began to scrutinize my reflection. Who was the girl staring back at me? Was she still the girl that was hopelessly in love with Zayn Malik? Or was she something else entirely? Something darker, something wicked? Continuing to stare into the mirror, I found myself thinking there was no better way for someone to see their reflection, than in the _water_.

*

As the concierge had guaranteed, the Park Hyatt Zurich’s Olympic size pool and accompanying hot tubs were deserted, all of the hotel’s patrons having opted to spend their day skiing and snowboarding in the alps. Both Eleanor and Danielle had sent me angry texts, inquiring as to why I had not decided to join the group. Using the same lie I had easily used with Zayn, I told them I felt a cold coming on and would prefer to rest.

Sliding my hotel issued keycard through the scanner; the glass door gave way and permitted me into the pool area, its air heavy with humidity and the bitter scent of chlorine. Chlorine had never been a friend to blondes, and so I had secured my greasy hair in a high ponytail to keep it as far away from the water as I could manage. Padding across the damp concrete and towards the chairs lining the pool, I glanced upwards through the glass ceiling, seeing that it had begun to snow. Fat white blobs of snow quickly began to litter the glass roof, and suddenly I was very eager to slip into the hot tub.

Draping my fluffy white across one of the pool chairs, I adjusted the top of my white halter bikini top, securing it over my less than generous breasts. Taking a shaky breath, I made my way towards the simmering hot tub, staring into its bubbling expanse. Gracefully sticking a toe into the boiling water, I quickly retracted my foot, taken aback by the water’s heat. Slowly but surely however, I managed to submerge my ankles, and after another few moments I was in up to my thighs. Twenty seconds later, I took the plunge, gasping when I fully immersed my body. The water surrounded me, each crevice, and each void in a suffocating blanket. Ready to know myself, ready for the walls to finally come down, I floated towards the jets on the far side, letting their pressure massage the pads of my fingers.

Perfect.

Resting my head on my glistening arms, I steered my hips in front of the jets, nearly choking when they began to furiously massage my sex. _Not enough_ , I managed to think. Quickly sliding out of my bottoms and bikini top, I flung the sopping pieces of fabric onto the concrete floor and positioned myself in front of the jets once again. A guttural moan emerged from my throat at the powerful and unrestricted sensation. Squeezing my eyes shut, I allowed the wall between Harry and I to descend, allowed myself to look into the mirror and see my true face, allowed Harry to come inside of me.

I was sitting in my room then, lazily reading a book on my bed. It was summer still, and my thighs were glued together with sweat. The book I read was rather boring, assigned to read over the summer for the second part of my university English course in the fall. Slamming the book shut and placing it on my bedside table, I began to stir, feeling restless and unfulfilled. Just then the door to my bedroom flew open and in stormed Harry –his eyes a smoldering ocean of melted jade and his thick disheveled hair swooped to one side. He was clad in black, _always in black_ , the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to expose the sun-kissed expanse of his strong arms.

“Harry-” I jolted upwards in bed, my sentence cut short as Harry closed the gap between us in three short strides.

Descending upon me in a flurry of heat and magnetism, Harry’s wet lips crashed against my own. The weight of Harry’s body crushed mine against the mattress, pushing the air from my lungs as his chest grinded against my breasts. Harry’s lips moved against mine, his tongue overwhelming as it flitted in and out of my mouth. Breaking away for air, I helped rip Harry’s shirt from his body, my hands exploring the strong planes of his chest. My heart was hammering so loudly that I had been rendered deaf, the throbbing between my legs unbearable and my entire body trembling in anticipation. Encircling my legs around Harry’s waist, I gasped when I felt his hardness against my core, dragging my nails over his broad shoulders and down the curve of his back.

“ _Odette_.” Harry whispered hoarsely into my ear, only magnifying the pulsating between my thighs.

Propping himself up on his knees, I watched helplessly as Harry pulled my cotton skirt over my thighs, his green eyes observing the creamy expanse of my legs in awe. Licking his pink lips, Harry hooked his fingers around the straps of my sopping wet g-string, his green eyes flickering to mine in order to seek permission.

Inside, my mind screamed “ _no_ ”, but what emerged from my lips was a strangled “ _please._ ”

With that, I assisted Harry in sliding my panties off, raising my legs so that he could pull them from my perspiring skin easily. Staring up at Harry, I allowed my legs to spread, the boiling air between our bodies caressing my most intimate part. Harry’s clear green eyes took in my dripping sex, and subconsciously he licked his lips, taking in a long, slow breath. His black jeans, riding so low on his hips were strained at the crotch, and suddenly I found myself wondering and wanting what lay below them.

My breath hitched when Harry leaned forward, his boyish face inches away from the heat of my slit. Reaching my hand forward, I ran my hand through his matted curls. Pursing his full pink lips, Harry blew a fine stream of air over my sex. A cool shiver ran up my spine. Wanting nothing more than his tongue against me, I lifted my hips from the bed, my mind knowing nothing but desperation and need for him.

Lifting his head, Harry’s green eyes flitted to mine, his chest rising and falling heavily. Suddenly, he had buried his face into me, eliciting a sharp cry from my lips. Grasping his sure hands around my thighs, Harry drew me closer to him, to his lips. Clenching the damp bed sheets with my fists, I screamed out when I felt Harry’s tongue shoot in and out of me.

“ _H-Harry_!” I sputtered, coming so violently that my eyes shot open, cruelly yanking me from my fantasy. Shuddering uncontrollably, I could feel a hot stream of liquid pool between my legs and into the surrounding water. Riding out my orgasm, it at last drew to a close, leaving my chest heaving from exertion. “ _Oh God_.” I uttered to myself in horror, not having the chance to dissect my findings when I heard the door to the pool area gently open.

Whipping my head towards the doors, my stomach plummeting towards the ground, my eyes shooting open in terror when I saw that it was Harry who had entered. Strolling in unassumingly with his curly head bowed, Harry was clad in a pair of red swimming trunks, a white towel draped over his tanned shoulders. Unable to move let alone speak, I found myself immobilized, simply staring at him and my heart leaping out of my chest. Swallowing hard, I felt my eyes travelling down the tanned expanse of Harry’s lean body, circling over his broad chest, strong arms, and along the fine trail of hair descending into his red bottoms. If he knew, if he knew what had just happened only moments ago. In sudden realization, my eyes flickered to my discarded swim suit in horror, seeing that it was too far to reach without exposing myself.

Harry’s head shot up suddenly, his green eyes shooting open in surprise. “ _Odette_?!” Harry blurted out, halting his approach towards the hot tub. Harry looked ill, the blood draining from his face with each passing second. It looked like Harry too had expected to be alone. Again he looked tired, like he had not slept well, a pair of dark bags encircling his vibrant eyes.  

I blinked dumbly at my brother, feeling whole body begin to shake involuntarily. “Harry.” I managed to greet him quietly. I could feel my face flare up, the heat trailing down my neck and across my chest, pooling in my very core. I would blame it on the hot tub, I decided in a panic, on anything but what had actually happened.

Harry’s eyes took me in, his mouth opening to speak and then closing again. The bruise on his cheek had improved immensely, a dark scab having formed on his lower lip. Harry’s chest rose and fell heavily, his green eyes penetrating my brown ones. The air was thick with heat, my core still pulsing with the remnants of orgasm.

“I’ll go.” Harry said definitively, shaking his curly head to himself and directing his eyes towards the floor. Making a move to leave, Harry ceased his retreat when a resounding “ _No_ ,” louder than called for exploded from my lips. Harry was staring at me then, shifting uncomfortably from left to right as he waited for me to speak further. _What had come over me_? I thought to myself in horror. “I mean you can stay,” I managed to sputter in a breathless recovery. “If you want to.” I added, averting my eyes from Harry’s for a moment before returning them again.

Tensing his jaw, Harry swallowed hard, nodding his head in assent. “Okay.” Harry said, nodding his head, as if he was talking to himself more than to me. Draping his towel on the same chair as my robe, he turned back towards the hot tub, taking a hesitant step forward. Clearing his throat, he perched on the edge of the hot tub, his arms tensing as he eased himself into the water. Quickly, I directed my eyes towards the pool, my breath hitching as the water that Harry shifted grazed over my throbbing slit.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, my gaze directed anywhere else but towards Harry. When I at last allowed myself a glance in his direction, I saw that Harry’s green eyes were already on me. “I thought you were going with the others.” He said, his wet brown curls pushed away from his eyes.

I swallowed hard, my eyes lingering over the droplets of water trailing down Harry’s smooth chest. “I felt sick.” I replied quietly, restraining my mind from recalling the false sensation of Harry’s tongue against my sex, refusing myself from wondering what the real thing would be like. I let out a shaky breath, frightened by my own thoughts. “What about you? Why didn’t you go?” The words slipped out of my mouth.

Harry stared at me, the expression in his green eyes unreadable. “Tired.” He finally mumbled in response, lifting his hand from the water to rub his eyes.

Chest heaving, I decided to at last voice my concerns for his health. For the past two weeks, he had been looking disheveled, like he was falling apart. And no matter how fucked up things were on my part, it did not change the fact that I was worried about my brother. “Have you not been sleeping well?” I inquired quietly.

Harry’s face contorted, a storm brewing in his green eyes –a hurricane above water. “ _Why_?” He asked quickly, his tone defensive, as if I had invaded his privacy somehow. Harry stared at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

My heart was hammering against my chest, the combination of the hot tub’s heat and my proximity to Harry sending my head into a dizzying spin. I lifted my hand from the water, brushing aside a droplet of water making its way down my cheek. “I can tell from-from your face.” I stuttered, my attempt at nonchalance failing.

Harry stared at me for a moment, his green eyes flickering towards the water. “No, I haven’t been.” He sniffed, head bowed.

I could feel a barrage of tears welling in my eyes, the words sprouting from my mouth suddenly. “Harry,” I began emphatically. “I’m sorry about what happened on the plane. I-I lost control,” I shook my head, a handful of tears escaping from my lashes. “I’ve been under some stress recently.” I concluded, my eyes flickering to his.

Harry wore a bitter smile on his pink lips. “Yeah? Well that makes two of us, Odette.” He muttered, making me wonder if there was more to his statement than he was letting on. Struggling to find something to say, anything at all, I was taken by surprise when Harry lifted himself from the water and onto the edge of the hot tub.

“Where are you going?” I announced, temporarily caught off guard at the sight of Harry’s glistening body, the water clinging to his muscular thighs. Losing the internal struggle with myself, I allowed my gaze to flicker over Harry’s crotch, my breath hitching at the harsh outline made by his sopping wet swimming trunks.

“Need some air.” Harry informed me, gracefully getting to his feet. Making a move to leave, Harry froze momentarily, his gaze fixated on the ground. Turning to see what Harry was observing, I saw in horror that it was my discarded bathing suit. Panicked, looking back to Harry I saw that he had already continued on his pursuit towards the door, not bothering to have retrieved his towel from the pool chair. In a blur of red and gold, Harry was out the door, taking a sharp right until he was out of sight.

Slumping against the side of the hot tub, I began to hyperventilate, my lungs expanding and falling so quickly that I was sure I’d faint. Glancing towards the water, I could see my terrified brown eyes staring back at me. I knew now, however, what my reflection truly held. Staring back at me was not myself. Staring back at me was _Harry_.

 

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I won't be able to post until next week so I've posted two chapters for all you lovely readers. Enjoy! xo


	6. Deliver Us (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a strange twist of fate, Harry and Odette are required to return to Holmes Chapel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for all your comments! xo

Deliver Us (Part I)

 

Some hours later, Zayn and the others returned from their day in the Alps, exhausted, soaking wet, and smelling of the mountains. As everyone huddled by the roaring fire in Liam and Danielle’s suite, I feigned great interest as Louis recounted the tale of how he managed to sprain his wrist ten minutes into the trip. Laughing along as Louis blamed Niall’s “texting and skiing” for being the cause of the accident, I could not help but glance towards the wide French doors, wondering when, and most of all _if_ , Harry would be coming through them.

Closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to drift back to our run in at the pool area earlier that day, to the terrifying epiphany I had as waves of pleasure lapped over me.

After the wall between us crumbled, after the debris and dust had cleared, Harry remained, and my hunger did not. No barriers, no closed doors, just Harry –his sun kissed skin, and his clear green eyes.

Inwardly whimpering, I opened my eyes to the flames, a sense of impending doom building within my chest. _No_ , I maintained suddenly, with strength I did not know I had. These strange urges, these strange feelings I had towards Harry –I did not need to act on them. I could suppress them; suffocate them until they were nothing but a distant memory, a far off echo, _a shadow_.

Plucking up a piece of firewood, Louis tossed it into the flames, all of us watching as they magnified in an explosion of red and orange, engulfing the wood entirely.

 _I can extinguish them_ ; I went on in my mind, just as I could a flame.

Collapsing next to me on the floor, Zayn carefully passed me a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Please refrain yourself from boring my girlfriend to death, Louis.” Zayn warned him playfully, turning to pay me a crooked smile. Watching as the fire licked at Zayn’s obsidian eyes, I could not help but think it was a pity, a pity that they stirred nothing within me, a pity that they did not move me as Harry’s pools of liquid jade did. Glancing away from Zayn, I lifted the mug to my lips, wondering how I had managed to land myself in such a fucking mess.

Louis scoffed, stretching his hands towards the flames. “She was Harry’s little sister before she was your girlfriend, Malik.” He pointed out, causing me to choke loudly on my sip of hot chocolate. Launching into a bout of rib-rattling coughs and whoops, I spat a concoction of hot chocolate and dissolved marshmallows back into my mug.

“You alright?” Zayn inquired, his brown eyes furrowed in worry. Thumping me once on the back, Zayn attempted to assist my choking. 

Managing to point at my mug, I croaked “ _still hot_!” waving away Zayn’s look of concern. If this was what hearing my name in the same sentence as Harry’s did to me, part of me didn’t want to know what happen when we were finally in the same room together.

“ _Either way_ ,” Louis went on, clearly agitated at my interruption. “I wouldn’t have a story to tell if Niall could tear himself away from his mobile for two fucking seconds.” He concluded with a bitter roll of his eyes.

Niall, sprawled out in front of the fireplace and clad in nothing but a pair of black snow pants did not bother to look up from his phone. “Not my fault you can’t maneuver a pair of skis you raging cunt.” He riposted without a beat. “When’s the pizza getting here?” Niall added suddenly, the low grumble that sounded from his stomach long forgotten when his phone vibrated, alerting him of a new text message.

Ignoring Niall, Louis leaned forward, attempting to peek over Niall’s shoulder. “Have you finally plucked up the courage and asked her on tour? Tell her she can bring her friend if it makes her feel better about it…” He trailed off, his turquoise coloured eyes curiously scanning Niall’s message.

Whipping my head towards the French doors when I heard them open, a disappointed knot formed in my stomach when I saw that it was Paul Higgins and not Harry who had breezed into the warmth of Liam and Danielle’s suite. Normally quite jovial, Paul paid none of us so much as a hello and rushed directly over to the hotel telephone, picking it up and launching into a lulled conversation with whoever was on the other side. Furrowing my brows, I watched as Paul’s blue eyes discreetly flickered towards me, flitting away again when he saw that I was watching him.

Subconsciously rising to my feet and placing my mug on the coffee table, I began to gravitate towards Paul just as he pulled the phone away from his ear, his blue eyes widening with surprise when he saw that I was already approaching him. “What the fuck is going on?” I inquired, my heart hammering against my ribcage. _Was this to do with Harry_? I found myself thinking suddenly, my stomach plummeting through the floor. _Was this why he hadn’t showed up to dinner_?

Grimacing, Paul offered the phone to me. “It’s your Mum.” He told me uneasily, averting his eyes to the ground.

My blood began to course so quickly that I felt light-headed. _What the fuck could Mum be calling for_? I had only just spoken to her that morning! Snatching the spiral cable telephone, I pressed it to my ear. “Mum? What’s going on?” I inquired hastily, the panic in my voice discernible. Glancing back towards the boys, my eyes widened in surprise when I saw that Zayn had followed me, his dark eyes surveying mine as he watched on silently.

“ _Odette, thank God_!” My Mother’s voice emerged from the ear-piece of the telephone. “I’ve been trying to reach you and Harry all day!” She sighed, her voice shaking.

I could feel my face contort, Zayn taking a step forward when he saw the expression on my face change. “Why?” I breathed into the phone, the blood in my face draining when I heard the French doors open for a second time. Whirling around, I saw at last that Harry had meandered through the doors, his curly hair pointing in all directions and his green eyes still blurry with sleep. Clad in his usual black on black jeans and torn shirt, Harry’s eyes landed on me as soon as he entered, his brows pulling together when he observed the horrified expression on my face.

“Odette?” Harry breathed, sensing that something was amiss. Paying no attention to the others, Harry began to approach me, his green eyes scanning my face. “What’s happened?” He announced more forcefully, his full pink lips parting in concern. Harry was standing inches away from me then, dark curls tumbling into his green eyes –his green eyes that were timidly searching mine. Overwhelmed with Harry’s proximity to me, overwhelmed by his comforting height and familiar scent, my mouth opened and closed in an attempt to speak, my body mercilessly beginning to tremble. Harry was staring at me expectantly, his broad chest rising and falling in anticipation. My ears began to ring, my entire body feeling as if it was floating a foot off the ground.

“Is that Harry I hear? I suppose it’s better you two hear this together…” My Mother trailed off with a heave of a sigh. “ _Grandpa passed away this morning, Odette._ ”

Harry’s eyes drilled into mine, my lungs constricting as his tongue flitted out and anxiously wet his lips.

I felt myself begin to sway, my Mother’s words and Harry’s piercing green eyes cutting off the supply of blood to my brain. All at once I felt my legs give way from beneath me, feeling myself crash into Harry’s strong arms and chest as the blackness swallowed me whole.

 

* * *

Everything returned at once –a freight train barreling into my head, bringing with it the sensations of sound and sight that had so suddenly disappeared just moments before.

Opening my eyes, I saw that I was still in Danielle and Liam’s suite, splayed out on one of the plush white sofas with my head propped up on a fluffy cushion. Above me, Zayn, Danielle, and Eleanor’s faces formed a worried halo.

“ _Hey_.” Zayn greeted me gently, his dark eyes surveying my face in concern. He was running his fingers through my hair gently, a sweet gesture that would have sent my heart leaping from my chest before, -before Harry.   

“What happened?” I breathed foggily, just as the happenings of the past few minutes galloped back into my mind. _Harry. Mum. Grandpa_. Jolting upwards in my seat, I saw that Niall, Liam, and Louis were squished together on the opposing sofa, watching over me with worried expressions. Meanwhile, Harry stood across the room, having taken my place at the telephone. My eyes scanned the strong planes of his body, the formidable swell of his chest, his sun licked arms. I swallowed hard, coming to terms that the strange attraction I had for him, the strange hunger, was no dream.   

Detecting my movement, Harry’s green eyes flickered towards me, his full pink lips pursing. “She’s just come to, Mum.” Harry spoke into the phone, his eyes flitting to the ground. “Yes, alright, we’ll be on the next flight out.” Harry assured our Mother, running a hand through his disheveled hair and heaving out a frustrated sigh. “ _I will_!” Harry suddenly announced with force. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.” He lowered his voice, squeezing his eyes shut and nodding. “Love you too.” He replied softly, hanging the phone up and staring at the opposing wall in defeat. Lifting his dark head after a moment, Harry’s eyes widened with surprise when he saw that my gaze was still on him.

“Is is true?” My voice emerged from my lips suddenly. “About Grandpa?”

Harry swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the floor again. “Yeah, yeah it is.” He nodded his head sadly.

Feeling a rush of tears spring to my eyes, I heaved out a sob, guilty that it wasn’t for my departed Grandfather, guilty that it was because Harry would not come to me. Feeling the sofa sag under Zayn’s weight, I allowed myself to fold into his chest, his pleasant smell –of clean laundry and cigarettes, infiltrating my nostrils. I wished however, craved for the smell of Cheshire’s woods, Irish Springs soap, yearned for _Harry_. This made me cry harder, my entire body wracked with sobs.

“I’m so sorry Odette.” Zayn whispered into my ear, his own voice shaking. Zayn had been there before, had lost his aunt in the spotlight and in the middle of One Direction’s first headlining tour at the young age of nineteen. “I’m here for you, for _whatever_ you need.” He choked out, tilting my chin upwards so that his dark eyes were on mine.

Zayn’s words, the fact that he had set aside his pride for me, the fact that he had written off whatever had transpired in France would have assured me that Zayn was the one, that perhaps he loved me too. How I wished it were that easy, how I wished I could admire his dark eyes the way I had before, wished that I could see eternity in them as I did not long ago, wished that I did not see Harry staring back at me in Zayn’s obsidian irises. Leaning forward to place a kiss on my lips, Zayn was interrupted when Harry spoke up.

“We’re leaving now!” Harry had blurted out, green eyes wide. Harry himself was surprised at his own outburst, shaking his head and running a hand through his mop of unkempt curls. “Tonight.” Harry corrected himself, more softly this time. “Will you be okay to fly?” He inquired, at last allowing himself to approach me. Swallowing, Harry stared down at me, his green eyes timidly searching mine. He did not touch me; he did not take me into his arms as he had done before, but perhaps this was for the best.

 “Yes, I’m fine.” I breathed, pulling away from Zayn. Without even realizing it, I had risen to my feet, staring upwards at Harry.

Harry took a shaky breath through his nose, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Right,” He said, redirecting his green eyes to where Louis, Niall, and Liam sat. “We should say goodbye to everyone.” And with that Harry turned his back, retreating towards Louis who had jumped up from his seat. Pulling him into a tight squeeze, Louis gave Harry a hearty thump on the back. “We’re just a call away.” Louis said quietly.

Suddenly, I felt myself wrapped in an embrace, squeezed between Danielle and Eleanor. “You need anything at all Odette, just call us and we’ll be on the first flight to Cheshire.” Eleanor tearily promised me.

“Give our love to your Mum.” Danielle said, placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks, and I will.” I whispered, allowing my head to fall on Eleanor’s shoulder. Looking up after a few moments, I saw Zayn pulling Harry into a hug, giving him a consoling thump on the back. Harry’s arms, which at first were at his sides, eventually went up to squeeze Zayn as well.

“Take care of her, yeah?” I could hear Zayn say to Harry, whose green eyes were staring straight ahead.

Pulling back from their embrace, Harry’s green eyes were on Zayn, momentarily blazing. “Of course I will,” Harry answered rather defensively, his expression unreadable. “She’s my sister.” He emphasized. And with that Harry breezed towards the door, stuffing his hands into his dark jeans and looking back at me expectantly.

Taking a shallow breath, I slowly meandered towards Zayn, allowing my head to fall into his chest. “Call me as soon as you land.” Zayn told me, placing his soft lips to my cheek. And quietly, so softly that I wasn’t sure he’d even said it at all, Zayn’s lips grazed by my ear and he whispered, “I love you, Odette.”

Freezing in place, my first instinct was to glance up at Harry, a knot forming in my stomach when I saw the French doors being pushed open, Harry disappearing around the corner in a blur of black and gold. Sliding from Zayn’s embrace, I began to walk towards the open doors, somehow remembering to pluck my sling bag from the silk upholstered chair placed near the entryway. Tentatively glancing over my shoulder, my heart nearly stopped when I saw that Zayn’s dark eyes were watching my retreating back in a mixture of disappointment and hurt.

“Bye.” I breathed, prying my eyes from Zayn’s, rounding the corner and ducking into the hallway. Walking a few steps, I took a deep gasp of air, feeling as if it was the first proper breath I had taken all day. Darting my eyes around the hallway, I began to panic when I saw that Harry was nowhere to be found. Tentatively making my way down the tiled hallway, I began to quicken my pace, my manic footsteps echoing around me. “Harry?” I called out, attempting to mask the desperation in my voice. “Harry?” I repeated, more loudly this time, my pace increasing. Nearly dashing down the hallway, a wave of relief washed over me when I saw that Harry was waiting for me in the open elevator, his green eyes trained on the ground.

“Oh.” I breathed, Harry lifting his head at the sound of my voice, once again averting his eyes to the floor.

Hesitantly breezing into the mirrored elevator, I pressed myself up against the furthest wall to Harry, attempting to tear my gaze from him but finding that I was unable to.

As the elevator doors began to close, Harry allowed his head to fall against the elevator’s reflective wall, closing his eyes and heaving out a sigh. “Have you got your passport?” Harry inquired quietly, his eyes still closed when the elevator began its descent towards the ground floor.

I allowed my eyes to scan Harry’s face, trailing them along the curve of his splayed lashes, along the side of his smooth face and down the hardness of his jaw, ending so seamlessly at the slope of his full lips. Both ashamed and confused at the sudden swell in my chest, I forced my gaze towards the shiny tiled floor of the elevator, swallowing hard. “Yes.” I answered quietly, knowing already that it was stowed safely away in my purse. If an elevator ride with Harry was this unbearable, what travesties would the next few days hold?

“Good.” Harry answered flatly, after what felt like too long a pause.

Just then the elevator came to a halt, its steel doors sliding open to reveal the relatively deserted lobby of the Park Hyatt Zurich. Kicking off from the wall, Harry breezed through the elevator doors, his green eyes trained forward in concentration. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, Harry made a beeline for the front doors of the hotel. Barely escaping the elevator as its doors began to slide shut, I was forced to break into a jog to catch up to Harry whose wide strides nearly had him through the front doors.

As we exited into the cool Zurich night, I ignored the urge to shiver, instead finding myself stealing a glance at Harry from beneath my lashes. Harry was muttering to himself unintelligibly, his eyes scanning across the bustling streets in search of a taxi. Without notifying me, he began to stalk down the sidewalk up street, leaving me to follow behind him. Harry was quite obviously manic, anxiously running a hand through his hair before waving his arm around frantically. “Oi!” He yelled at a passing taxi, only for it to continue to race down the street.

“Harry,” I began desperately, barely able to contain myself. “I know you haven’t been sleeping, and I know you and Grandpa were close-” I said emphatically, interrupted when Harry whirled around to face me, his green eyes a burning pair of emeralds.

“Can you stop trying to psychoanalyze me for one _fucking_ second, Odette?” Harry snapped heatedly, his chest heaving. Face contorting, Harry turned on his heel once again, trudging down the sidewalk continuing to scan the street for approaching taxis.

Temporarily frozen in place at Harry’s outburst, I could feel anger bubble to life within my chest. Seething, I chased after Harry, my purse repeatedly thumping against my hip as I walked. “I just don’t understand!” I screamed after him, Harry’s lean frame coming to a stop at the sound of my voice. “Something has been going on with you! Is it the fans? The boys? Tell me what it is!” I shrieked, throwing my arms up in defeat.

Bowing his curly head towards the ground for a moment, Harry slowly turned around to face me, his green eyes narrowed hatefully. “Have you ever stopped to think for one minute that maybe the problem is _you_?” He uttered quietly, his head bowed towards me.

My heart began to slam against my ribcage. What could Harry possibly mean by that? “ _Me_?” I hissed, attempting to remain formidable under Harry’s unwavering gaze. Harry had begun to vibrate with anger, his chest heaving as his green eyes searched my face. Somehow the wide gap between us had closed, Harry’s unexpected proximity to me sending my head into a dizzying spin. “How the fuck am I the problem?” I inquired viciously, fighting to keep my eyes on his, refusing them from drifting to his pink lips.

“The half of the time I’m not dealing with fans, Odette,” Harry fumed; his green eyes blazing as he took an angry step towards me. “I’m dealing with your self-destructive horseshit and trying to make sure you don’t get yourself _killed_.” He annunciated, narrowing his eyes hatefully before turning on his heel and walking down the street once again.

I let out a sound of disgust, legitimately upset at Harry’s low opinion of me. “I can’t believe this!” I shrieked in disbelief, stomping after him. “You’re _really_ still on about Paris, aren’t you?!” I screamed at Harry’s retreating back.

“YES, YES I AM,” Harry whirled around, nearly causing me to collide into his broad chest. “Because it’s just a matter of time before you land yourself in another _fucking_ mess, Odette!” He jabbed his finger at me lividly, his green eyes frenzied. Letting out a terrified breath, Harry had once again continued down the sidewalk, his steps quick and erratic, as if he was trying to get away from me.

Feeling angry tears rush to my eyes, I dashed after him down the sidewalk. “I don’t recall asking you to me my fucking hero, Harry!” I screamed viciously at his back, my face contorting as hot tears descended down my cheeks.

Before I could even contemplate what had occurred, my back was pressed up against the wall of the Park Hyatt, the thin fabric of my t-shirt defenseless against the frigid brick. Harry was unnervingly close, his lean frame overwhelming my small one, his arm propped above my head. “Oh yeah?” Harry hissed, green eyes blazing with anger. “If it wasn’t for me, what do you think would have happened to you outside Le Cab, hm? You think those guys were planning a romantic _fucking_ dinner for you?” He inquired condescendingly, eyes narrowing. “I can tell you with _great_ certainty that romance was the last fucking thing on their minds, Odette.” He spat bitterly.

I could barely breathe, let alone think with Harry’s face was hovering just above mine. His chest was rising and falling in exertion, his hard jaw clenching and unclenching. “I-I can take can care of myself, Harry.” My voice wavered as I stared wide-eyed at him. Was this truly what had been eating at Harry all these weeks? Had his worry for me been keeping him up at night? My chest began to ache, realizing that I had been responsible for all of Harry’s turmoil.

“ _Really_?” Harry mocked me. “So when Zayn finally gets around to sticking his prick in the next girl he decides he fancies, are you telling me I won’t have to be there to pick up the pieces?” Harry’s voice grew louder. “That I won’t have to be there to make sure you don’t end up dead in a gutter somewhere?” He exclaimed, his eyes searching mine. “Maybe Zayn doesn’t care where you end up when he’s done with you, but _I do_.” He announced, emphasizing the last words of his statement. Realizing himself and how close he was to me, Harry took a manic backwards, running his hands through his hair in frustration before continuing down the street, shaking his head to himself and muttering under his breath.

Still leaning against the wall, I watched as Harry spotted a taxi in the distance, raising his fingers to his lips and whistling loudly.

What sort of sister was I to be doing this to Harry? To be so selfish and concerned with my own destruction that I was making him sick with worry? My heart began to ache, thinking of how it would tear him apart if he ever knew, if he ever knew of the sickening feelings I had been having for him. “Harry,” I exclaimed, letting out a sob and running to him. “Harry, I’m sorry!” I cried out, attempting to grab onto his arm.

“ _Don’t fucking touch me_!” Harry roared, escaping from my touch just as a yellow taxi-cab slowly pulled up in front of us. Retracting my hand, I stared at Harry in shock, watching as his green eyes widened in horror. Letting out a strangled sigh, Harry took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, swallowing hard. “Look,” Harry began, more gently this time. “Let’s just go home, and get this over with.” He concluded, and without another word, he jerked open the door of the cab, leaving me to climb in after him.

“ _Bastard_.” I muttered under my breath, wiping angrily at my tears and clambering into the taxi, slamming the door shut harder than was necessary. Buckling myself in and huddling to the very edge of my seat, I failed to stop myself from stealing a glance at Harry, seeing that he had whipped out his mobile.

“Airport, please.” Harry muttered to the cab driver, tapping haphazardly at his touch screen and most likely purchasing our tickets back to England.

As the cab shot off down the street, I folded my arms across my chest, turning my head to watch the city of Zurich rush by. Descending into a tunnel, we were surrounded by blackness. Crossing my arms across my chest, I nearly choked when my eyes met with Harry’s in the window’s reflection. Harry’s green eyes searched the side of my face in a mixture of confusion and agony, his chest rising and falling quickly. Eventually, his green eyes trailed their way down my neck and along the skin of my arm, past my breasts and along the expanse of my legs. Closing his eyes, Harry turned his head to stare out his own window, not knowing however, that I had seen him.

* * *

 

“Odette, we’re here.” Harry’s voice gently beckoned me from my dreams. Opening my eyes, the first thing I saw were Harry’s, clear and green –springtime after a long winter. I jumped back in my seat, wildly looking around the inside of what appeared to be a rented car. Glancing back at Harry as the chemical ‘new car’ smell floated up my nostrils, I watched as he sifted through a small pile of papers –our boarding passes. Observing the side of his face, once again I knew that he had not slept, the dark rings beneath his eyes more pronounced than usual.

Furrowing my eyebrows together in confusion, I sifted though my memories, realizing that the last thing I remembered was boarding the one-way red-eye flight to Heathrow airport and popping two sleeping pills to knock me out for the duration of the trip. Turning my head to gaze out the window, I could not hide the shock look that appeared on my face when I saw that we were parked outside our house in Holmes Chapel. It was early morning, just before six, the time I would normally be returning home from a run. “How did I get in the car?” I inquired, still groggy from my sleep.

Harry paused his shuffling, his eyes flitting towards me for a moment. “I had to carry you.” He informed me off-handedly, returning his gaze to our boarding passes. Folding them neatly, he tucked them behind the car’s still sun-visor, his eyes then falling to his lap.

“Oh,” I answered in attempted nonchalance, my cheeks beginning to burn. “Thanks.” I said, a chorus of birds launching into a chorus of soft chirping. Morning was upon us.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Whatever.” He said, heaving out a sigh and going to rub his tired eyes. Blinking tiredly, Harry went on to stare straight ahead, his disheveled mop of curls pointing in all directions.

Smiling in spite of myself, I turned my gaze on our home, mentally going over all of our childhood memories, my stomach panging when I remembered that our Grandfather was gone. “I’ve never been so happy to be home.” I sniffed, feeling my eyes begin to water. A hard-headed war veteran, I had always felt that my Grandfather had never really liked me much. Harry however, Harry he had loved immensely. And Harry loved him in return. This much I knew.

“If only it were under better circumstances.” Harry replied flatly, and in one fluid movement, he was out of the car, slamming the door shut and climbing onto the driveway without a backwards glance.

Staring after him in shock, I unbuckled my seatbelt, quietly slipping out from the car as well. Face contorting, I watched as Harry easily dashed up the steps of our rickety porch, retrieving our house keys from his back pocket. Unlocking the door, Harry breezed into our home, the door swinging shut behind him. Wearily shutting the door to the black Toyota Corolla that Harry had rented, I trudged down the driveway and took heavy steps up our porch steps. Taking a deep breath, I pried open the screen door, pushing into the warmth of our house. Overwhelmed with the comforting smell of our home, I saw that Harry was perched on the bottom step of our stairs; his green eyes narrowed his concentration as he unlaced his black boots.

“You haven’t slept have you?” I found myself inquiring, quietly dropping my purse onto the front mat.

Harry paused, momentarily glancing up from his shoes. “No.” He answered, at last slipping out of his boots. Tossing them one by one into the open closet, he rose to his feet, his green eyes hesitantly landing on me, unsure of what we were to do next.

“Why don’t you go rest for a little while?” I offered gently, shutting the door closed and locking it. “I’ll get started on breakfast.” I said, turning to glance up at him. Hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans, the expression in Harry’s green eyes was unreadable. “I’ll also handle Mum.” I promised, lowly so that she wouldn’t hear. Mum would most likely be a wreck, always having craved the love of her Father, but never having had his heart fully.

Harry’s eyes flickered to the floor, his head of curls bowed. “Are you sure?” He inquired softly, sounding like himself for the first time in days.

I observed the hard panes of Harry’s face, my chest aching in a mixture of confusion and shame. “I’m sure.” I whispered, smiling when Harry lifted his green eyes to mine.

“Right, okay.” Harry sniffed softly, nodding to himself. Turning on his heel, Harry wearily began to ascend the stairs. Making my way towards the kitchen, I discreetly directed my eyes towards the stairs, swearing that I saw Harry falter as he reached the top, shaking his head profusely and disappearing around the corner. Entering the frigid kitchen, I nearly jumped when I heard Harry’s bedroom door slam on the floor above. Focusing my mind on what was at hand, I drowned out the war waging on in my mind. Was I truly attracted to Harry? Had my arousal just been in the heat of the moment? Was there more to my desire than simply lust? In that moment, I did not care. _My family needed me_.

Setting to work, I put on a large pot of coffee, collecting a carton of eggs, flour from the pantry, and milk. Tossing all of the ingredients into a large bowl, I began to aggressively beat the mixture, putting forth my best effort in producing my Mother’s pancakes. Setting a pan onto the stove, I placed a dollop of butter in the very middle of it, watching as it melted. Turning my head towards the door, I swore that I heard a pair of soft footsteps making their way towards the kitchen. Had Harry changed his mind? Had he decided to turn back around as I was certain he planned to do earlier? I waited patiently, staring at the door, gaze returning to the stove in disappointment when no one came.

Just as I set the large plate of steaming pancakes in the very centre of the dining table, my Mother breezed into the kitchen, her eyes shooting open in surprise when she laid eyes on me. “ _Odette, sweetheart_!” She heaved out.

“Mum!” I sobbed. Running to her, I threw my arms around her shoulders, burying my face into her neck. Feeling her arms wrap around me, I squeezed my eyes shut, a flurry of tears escaping from beneath my lashes. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered, my voice shaking. I was apologizing for more than the death of my Grandfather. I was also apologizing for my disgusting thoughts about Harry, for my shameful acts.

“It’s alright, love.” My Mother cooed, stroking my hair gently.

Steering my Mother towards the dining table, I helped her to sit down. Pouring us both a mug of coffee, I placed one down in front of her. Sitting across from her, my heart began to ache as I observed my Mother’s tired face. Like Harry, she hadn’t slept much, her green eyes blood shot and red from crying.

“I was up late planning the funeral,” My Mother began solemnly, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “Called in a few favours here and there and managed to secure something for tomorrow morning.” She told me, brushing her frizzy brown hair to one side. “I do hope the fans have some restraint and stay away.”

“I hope so too.” I answered quietly, observing her face. “How are you, Mum? How is Grandma?” I inquired quietly, placing my hand on top of hers. I didn’t need to ask to know that my Grandmother was likely a mess. Although she had conceded to me many times that war had changed Grandpa, she still maintained that she loved him nonetheless.

My Mother smiled. “As well as can be, love.” She replied, wiping at her eyes which had begun to tear up again. “How is Harry doing? I heard him go up to bed.” She told me, her face contorting with worry.

“I don’t think it’s hit him yet.” I answered quietly, my eyes falling to the table, still wondering in the back of my mind why Harry had paused on the stairs, wondering if he was sleeping now and what he dreamed of.

*

After helping my Mother clean the house, we prepared beds for relatives who would be coming in from London as well as up North. My Mother and Step-Father thought it more logical for everyone to stay in one place in order to limit the paparazzi’s access into our private matters. At last finding a moment to myself, I escaped into my bedroom, plucking one of my photo albums off my shelf. Quietly slipping into my closet, I squeezed myself into the very corner where there was a blank amount of space, just enough to sit comfortably. Since I was a child, I had absconded to my closet when things in my life went wrong. It was the one place that I could find the solace and peace that I had always craved.

Flipping open the dusty photo album, I absentmindedly pawed around the floor for the mickey of red-label vodka I had abandoned there before. Twisting off the cap with my spare hand, I took a swig, the light from the slits in my closet door illuminating the first photograph of my family. It was from my sixteenth birthday party, my last birthday before Harry had become ‘famous’ in the truest sense of the word. Looking in the mirror that day, I remembered feeling _old_ for the first time. Clad in a white dress, I remember, feeling like a woman, looking like a woman.

Cheeks puffed up, I was leaning over my birthday cake, ready to blow out my candles, Harry and the boys standing around me. It was probably the second time I had met Zayn, and the first time I had decided I wanted him to be mine. Flipping the page, I could not help but smile at the next photo, Harry having taken a large dollop of icing and mashing it into my face. Although I was furious, the both of us were laughing, Harry’s smile wide and contagious as I went to smack him.

Slamming the album shut, I stifled a sob, instead knocking back another shot of vodka. Screwing the lid back on, I clambered out of the closet. Glancing at my iDock, my heart began to slam against my ribcage when I saw it was time to wake Harry for dinner. I hated how I was nervous, hated that an action I would’ve found completely normal before leaving for Europe left my head spinning. Swallowing hard, I caught my own reflection in the mirror. Tucking my wavy blonde hair behind my ears, I didn’t bother to wipe the mascara that had smudged beneath my eyes and went to leave my room before I could change my mind.

Passing the bathroom, I paused in front of Harry’s door, my eyes on level with the thick black letters that spelt out his name. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the doorknob, quietly twisting it and letting myself into Harry’s room. At once, I was hit with Harry’s familiar smell –a combination of the woods, soap, and his very own musky scent which could be described by nothing except his name. Harry’s room was larger than mine and painted a forest green, various heaps of dirty laundry littering the hardwood floor. Sprawled out across his bed was Harry himself, his bare chest rising and falling in slumber, one arm stretched above his head and the other resting on his lean stomach. Scanning my eyes along the hard contours of Harry’s chest and arms and to wear his blue pajamas were resting low on his hips, my face began to heat up.

Ashamed, I turned away quickly, finding myself staring at Harry’s desk where everything had been cleared off except for two three things, two photographs, one of the band, one of from our family vacation to Mexico the previous year, and lastly a beat-up red notebook that Harry totted around with him everywhere. Curiosity getting the best of me, I was about to lift the cover when Harry’s voice emerged from behind me. “What time is it?” He asked quietly.

Nearly jumping a meter into the air, I whirled around to face Harry, seeing that his green eyes were trained on me, vibrant and well rested. Expression unreadable, his eyes flickered to the red notebook whose cover I had been about to lift. “Seven.” I answered breathlessly, my heart slamming against the walls of my chest. “Dinner should be ready soon.” I added, averting my eyes when Harry sat up in bed, rushing a hand through his thick hair.

“ _Great_.” He answered sarcastically, rising to his feet. Lifting my gaze from the floor, I saw that Harry’s green eyes were narrowed in annoyance. “ _Can you go_?” He asked, the irritation shining through in his voice. “I need to change.” He added, reaching for a white t-shirt draped across the end of his bed.

“Right, sorry!” I exclaimed in embarrassment, remembering myself. Face burning; I averted my eyes to the floor, quickly shuffling towards the door. Stepping out into the hallway, I pulled the door closed behind me, my heart racing. Pressing my back against Harry’s bedroom door, my blood was coursing so quickly through my veins that I felt faint. Composing myself after a few seconds, I went to make my way towards the stairs, pausing suddenly. Slowly turning back towards Harry’s door, I took a slow breath, at last giving into my curiosity. Bending over, my heart pounded loudly in my ears as I peered through the keyhole and into Harry’s room, my breath catching in my throat when I was met with the sight of Harry. Still standing where I had left him, Harry’s green eyes were trained on the ground, his strong chest rising and falling slowly. Still clenched in his fists was the white shirt he had reached for. Dropping it to the nearest dirty pile of laundry, Harry slumped back onto his bed, letting out a low groan. Dropping his head into his hands, I watched in horror as Harry’s shoulders began to shudder, a quiet sob meeting my ears.

Taking a horrified step backwards, I found my back pressed against the hallway wall, my eyes once again on the black letters spelling out _H-A-R-R-Y_ on his bedroom door. As it turned out, I didn’t know Harry, I didn’t know my brother, as well as I thought I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this installment! Part II of Deliver Us and its conclusion called 'Wake Me Up' will also be posted. Enjoy! xo


	7. Deliver Us (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Odette's Grandfather's funeral takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

As my eyes opened to the dawn, the distinct pang of grief and impending doom made its presence known in the pit of my stomach.

It was the morning of my Grandfather’s funeral, and staring out of my window; I could not help but think the weather –white skies with a frigid bite to the air, was appropriate for the somber occasion. Glancing at my iDock, I was that it was just before six; right around the time I would throw the heavy down comforter from my body and begin preparing for my morning run. How I longed for the calming heave of my lungs, for the sharp notes of evergreen and pine as I descended through the trails, for the comfort of routine. Routine was _safe_ , routine was _unchanging_. Routine never had me asking questions, never had me thinking that perhaps I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did. Most especially, routine never provided me with answers to these questions, answers that involved me desiring my brother, desiring Harry –Harry who had never come down for dinner the previous night.

Shutting my eyes, I allowed Harry’s green eyes to materialize in my mind, to the pleasant sight of his strong chest rising and falling in slumber, to the temptation of his pajama bottoms resting so low on his hips. My core began to throb at the memory. Sliding my hand along my stomach and past the elastic waistband of my shorts, I could feel my sex pulsing against my palm. It would be a lie, I maintained, to say that I never knew Harry was attractive. With bright green eyes, full lips, and a mop of unkempt brown curls, it was a commonly known fact, that Harry was desirable. However it was just that to me, a fact; a piece of knowledge that never applied to me. Something only the millions of Harry’s adoring fans could see. When I had allowed the wall to fall however, for the thick slab of concrete that kept reminding me I was his sister to descend, I could finally see Harry as they did –not as my brother, but as someone who could curb their appetite, their hunger. My appetite, my hunger. Pressing my sex into my fingers, I took a sharp intake of breath.

 _Is there more to Harry than hunger_? A taunting voice spoke up from the darkest corner of my mind. _Is there more to Harry than lust?_ The thought had my eyes shooting open, sent me leaping from my pink sheets, erratically padding down the hardwood floor and through my bedroom door.

Glancing into the deserted hallway, I saw that my suspicions were correct. The whole house was still sleeping, my Mum and step-dad, my aunts, uncles, and cousins that I heard arrive late last night, and of course _Harry_. Silently padding towards Harry’s bedroom door, I found myself once again staring at the bold black letters spelling out his name, and then at the stiff and unmoving bronze door knob. Frowning, I recalled peering into Harry’s room through his door’s keyhole, watching as he dropped his head into his hands and began to cry. It had horrified me, seeing Harry cry. It was something I hardly ever saw him do, making it all the more concerning. Was he taking Grandpa’s death harder than I realized? Or was there something else, something more insidious gnawing away at him?

Letting out a long breath, I continued walking towards the end of the hallway, finding myself staring upwards at the outline of our attic. Glancing over my shoulder to ensure that I was alone, I stood on the very tips of my toes, tugging on the chain attached to the ceiling. Pulling it down, a flight of rickety wooden stairs gently fell in front of me. Climbing them with light steps, I ascended into the attic, refusing the urge to cough at the cloud of dust that had come loose from the floor. Daylight was pouring into the poorly lit attic through a tiny triangular window, illuminating the area just enough for me to see. Scanning the numerous boxes lining the floor, at last I caught sight of what I had been looking for –a brown box labeled _Grandpa Edward_.

Lifting the dusty lid of the box, I saw that inside were various trinkets –letters and loose photographs among other things. Selecting one of the black and white photographs, I saw that it was of my Grandparents as a young couple. Lying on the beach near the sand, they wore contagious smiles, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. How vibrant they looked, how youthful. Before the war, before Grandpa’s drinking began. My chest began to ache, and I wished that things had been different, wished that I had managed to win Grandpa’s heart, wished that I had gotten under his skin like Harry had.

 Wiping the tears that had trailed their way down my cheeks, I noticed something in Grandpa’s box of things catch the light. Sifting through the loose pieces of paper and photographs, I at last pulled out a long chain, seeing that dangling from it was a pair of dog tags. Wiping the dirt and soot from them, I saw that carved into its dull metal was _Cox, Edward G._ _3858-2729_. Cradling them in the palms of my hands, I knew then just _who_ I’d give them to. Replacing the dusty cover of Grandpa’s box, I quickly descended the stairs. Pushing them back into the ceiling, I turned to make my way back towards my room, freezing in place when I heard Harry’s door shut quietly behind me.

 

* * *

 

Sitting on the toilet, I had lit a quick smoke, thinking that I wouldn’t have time to sneak one in until after the funeral. Taking a drag of my cigarette, I began to observe my outfit, content with what I had chosen to wear –a demure black dress, opaque black nylons, and a pair of modest closed toe heels. Pulling my hair into a sleek French bun, I kept my makeup simple and opted only for a pair of pearl studs my Mum had given me two Christmases ago.

Snuffing out my cigarette against the counter, I reached for some toilet paper, nearly falling from the seat when the door to the loo flew open. Staring at me was my seventeen year-old cousin Andrew, his blue eyes shooting open and his jaw dropping in shock. Dressed in a crisp black suit, Andrew too was dressed for our Grandfather’s funeral. “Oops.” Andrew uttered quietly, continuing to stare at me.

 “GET OUT! GET OUT!” I screamed, picking up a stray bottle of body lotion at hurling it towards the door. Eyes widening further, Andrew managed to shut the door just as the bottle slammed into it.

A moment later, an apologetic Andrew mumbled “…Sorry, Odette….” From the other side of the door.

Rolling my eyes heavily, I ripped a large wad of toilet paper from the roll. “Learn how to _knock_ you little shit!” I announced in exasperation, reaching down to wipe myself and then sliding my underwear and tights back up my thighs.

After washing my hands and a few adjustments to my makeup, I poked my head out into the hallway, seeing that Andrew has smartly fled the scene. Creeping towards the staircase and beginning to descend them, I could see that the den and adjoining living room was teeming with relatives. Returning my gaze in front of me, I nearly froze in place when I saw that Harry stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing a sad smile and kneeling in front of my five year-old cousin Grace. Clad in a fitted black suit, crisp white shirt, and dress shoes, Harry had tamed his mop of brown curls, neatly parting his hair on the side. Harry’s green eyes flickered towards the stairs when he sensed that he was being watched, a stunned expression appearing on his face. Swallowing hard, Harry’s eyes innocently traveled along my frame, his green eyes eventually lifting to meet mine. Noticing that Harry was no longer paying attention to her, Grace turned her head in confusion, letting out a gleeful yelp when she saw me. “Odette!” Grace screamed, her dark ringlets bouncing as she rushed towards me, thrusting her tiny arms around my waist and nearly knocking me over. Aunt Gwen had dressed Grace in her Sunday best –a frilly black dress, thick white stockings, and Mary-Jane’s. 

“Hello to you too, Gracie.” I laughed, my eyes flickering towards Harry, watching as he slowly rose to his full height. Sniffing, Harry directed his eyes to the floor, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants. Even in my high heels, Harry’s frame overwhelmed my small stature. My eyes searched Harry’s face wildly, attempting to decipher something, _anything_ that would tell me what was going on in his head. Looking up suddenly, Harry’s eyes drifted towards the living room, and he silently observed our quietly murmuring relatives, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to get away from Grace and me.

Pulling back from my waist, Grace’s big hazel eyes observed me adoringly. “You look so pretty, Odette!” She announced robustly, turning to Harry and latching onto his hand with her smaller one. “Doesn’t Odette look pretty, Harry?” She inquired excitedly, tugging Harry forward.

Harry’s gaze returned to my face, his full lips parting and the expression in his clear green eyes unreadable. Chest heaving, Harry finally nodded his head slowly, tearing his eyes away from mine and looking down at Grace. “Yes, Grace.” Harry said quietly, giving her a small smile and squeezing her hand. “Odette looks very pretty.” He concluded with a whisper, his eyes flickering back to mine while Grace nodded her head of ringlets enthusiastically at Harry’s agreement.

My heart began to thud viciously against my chest at Harry’s words, my entire body vibrating with nerves. Harry had told me I looked pretty on many occasions, why was it only affecting me this way now? I let out a nervous laugh, averting my eyes from Harry’s and crouching in front of Grace. “I look like total rubbish next to you, love.” I told her playfully, planting a flurry of kisses on her rosy cheeks. “Why don’t you go say hello to Grandma? She looks sad sitting there all by herself.” I suggested sweetly, seeing that our Grandmother was sitting on one of the sofas in the far side of the living room, her melancholy green eyes trained out the window. I felt slightly guilty for not going over myself, but I simply had to speak to Harry, had to extrapolate.

Grace was Grandma’s favourite, and if anyone was going to bring a smile to her face, it was our youngest cousin.

Turning to glance at Grandma, Grace stuck out her lower lip, a worried expression appearing on her young face. “Oh, alright…” Grace trailed off, deciding that the idea might be a good one. Replacing her expression with one of determination, Grace puffed out her chest and began to make her way towards Grandma. Looking back up at Harry, I saw that he was already peering down at me, his green eyes narrowed. When I clambered back to my feet, Harry was in the process of walking away.

“You never came down for dinner last night.” I said, stopping Harry in his tracks.

Harry turned back towards me, his green eyes surveying me angrily before falling to the ground. “I wasn’t hungry.” He answered, not bothering to hide the petulance in his voice.

Harry’s answer only magnified my suspicions. He was hiding something, but what? “ _Why_?” I inquired forcefully, crossing my arms over my chest. I would not give up until I knew what was keeping Harry awake at night, what was rendering him so sick that he couldn’t even bring himself to eat. I had to be there for Harry, just as he had been there for me on the countless occasions I had needed him most.

Harry’s eyes flickered back towards mine, a bitter smirk finding his pink lips. “I really need an excuse?” He shot back, raising his eyebrows condescendingly.

Chest heaving, my eyes tirelessly searched Harry’s face, wishing that it held the answers to his life’s tragedies as well as my own. “Yes,” I answered breathlessly. “ _Tell me why_.” I announced emphatically, my face contorting. “ _Please_.” I begged him, my eyes beginning to brim with tears.

Harry’s green eyes softened for a moment, but after a moment he shut them, furiously shaking his head to himself. “Unless you forgot,” Harry emphasized, glancing back towards me, a combination of confusion and anger brewing in the depths of his light green eyes. “ _Grandpa died_.” He stressed, taking a step forward so that his face was looming over mine. “But according to you, I should be stuffing my face and acting like _nothing_ happened.” He uttered through clenched teeth.

I was staring at Harry in shock, my eyes searching his angry green ones. “ _I never said that_.” I found the strength to answer him weakly. _What was happening to my brother_? I found myself thinking, my eyes subconsciously flickering to Harry’s lips. _But most of all, what was happening to me_?

A sardonic smile appeared on Harry’s lips, his green eyes shining in amusement. Taking a step towards me, Harry tilted his head so that his lips were directly by my ear, his thick hair brushing the side of my cheek. “If you’re so eager to help me, Odette, there is _one_ thing than you can do.” Harry began somewhat tauntingly, his hot breath tickling my ear.

My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely think, Harry’s intoxicating scent sending my head into a dizzying spin. “Of course.” I said in reply, swallowing hard. “Anything.” I whispered, my voice shaking ever so slightly.

Harry paused for a moment, his breaths audible in my ear when at last he whispered, “ _Leave me the fuck alone_.” And with that, Harry breezed past me, leaving me staring listlessly ahead, and feeling as if it was actually me who had died

* * *

St. Luke’s Church was located on a grassy hill just outside of Holmes Chapel’s bustling town square. The land surrounding the tiny Church was lined thickly with trees, a series of rolling hills visible in the distance. The Church, in spite of its small size, had a heavy almost ominous weight that surrounded its aged brick walls.

Somberly exiting the black town car in which we had travelled to the Church, I glanced over my shoulder to watch my cousin Pippa clamber out after me. Pippa was newly sixteen years old, with long shockingly black hair, a pair of dark eyes, and pale, almost iridescent skin. Pippa was the sister to Grace and Andrew, both who had ridden in separate cars, Grace with our Mothers due to her young age, and Andrew with the other men in our family, including Harry. Emerging behind from behind Pippa were our oldest cousins Nora and Jessa, both of them wearing a pair of identical frowns. Jessa, the only member of our family to inherit our Grandmother’s shocking red hair was twenty-seven, while Nora, with very mousy straight hair and a pair of watery brown eyes was thirty and newly engaged. Ever since Harry’s fame had become a part of our lives, both Nora and Jessa had chosen to keep mostly to themselves. They claimed it was due to their being much older than we were, however I had always felt it was because they secretly resented Harry, blaming him for the constant intrusions into their lives. And so, I found myself closest to the rather eccentric, but nonetheless lovable, Pippa.

Sliding her arm through mine, Pippa tugged me up the hill and towards the Church. “Does Niall still think I’m not pretty enough for him?” She inquired boisterously.

“ _Pippa_!” I hissed, shooting her a glare. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Jessa and Nora were pacing silently behind us, Jessa’s green eyes shooting daggers at the back of Pippa’s head while Nora was surveying me with narrowed eyes. “We’ll talk about this later.” I whispered through clenched teeth, taking quicker steps in order to distance ourselves from our older cousins.

“ _Fine_.” Pippa whined, a playful glint appearing in her dark eyes after a moment. “How are things with Zayn then?” She sing-songed in nonchalance.

Shutting my eyes, I knew that I could not go long without being reminded of Zayn, of the hurt look in his obsidian eyes, of the fact that after all this time; he had finally told me he loved me. I finally had Zayn’s heart, but at the exact same time I no longer wanted it. “Things are good.” I answered quietly, in a way that would hopefully invite no further talk on the subject.

Ascending the wide cobblestoned steps, Pippa and I breezed into the spacious Church, seeing that the creaky wooden pews had slowly begun to pile up with family friends, Grandpa’s fellow veterans from the war, as well as distant relatives. The  Bidding farewell to Pippa with a squeeze of my hand, I proceeded down the aisle, allowing my eyes to flicker to the very front pew where I could see my Mother, Step-Father, and further down the bench, Harry, all sitting quietly. Staring straight ahead at the intricate stained-glass windows decorating the very back of the Church, I demurely made my way towards where my family sat, passing by a large photograph of my Grandfather, dressed in his veteran’s uniform, placed next to the decorative casket in which he now lay. How short life was, how fleeting.

Head bowed, I made my way along the bench, the pew’s aged wood creaking as I sat between my Mother and Harry. I could sense Harry’s frame stiffen beside me, relaxing only after a full minute had passed. Pulling up the black sleeve of his fitted suit jacket, Harry bowed his head, furrowing his eyebrows and observing the time. I did not turn my head towards him, I did not glance his way even once. Crossing and uncrossing my legs, I did as Harry asked and left him _alone_.

The service for Grandpa began shortly after everyone had taken their seats, the priest speaking for a short time about life, death, and what one must do to successfully lead life as a Christian. With the sudden attraction I had towards Harry, I knew that my faith had wavered; thinking that in the end, God probably wouldn’t want me anyways. On behalf of Grandpa’s children, next spoke my tearful Uncle George. The strong and silent type, I knew that this was unbearably difficult for my Uncle, making it all the more meaningful. At last, it was the turn of the person who would be speaking on behalf of Grandpa’s seven grandchildren. When my Mother had volunteered Harry to speak late last night, I had jumped in and volunteered myself, knowing that Harry wouldn’t want to. It was something any good sister would do.

“It is now with great pleasure that I introduce my beloved niece, _Odette Christiana Styles_.” My Uncle George spoke solemnly into the microphone, his blood-shot eyes flickering towards me.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Harry’s head snap towards me, his clear green eyes wide with shock as they searched the side of my face. Taking a deep breath, I shakily retrieved the short speech I had scribbled the night before and rose from my seat. Jutting my chin out in order to imitate the confidence I was so sorely lacking, I calmly made my way towards the Church’s podium. Climbing the small wooden steps, I was at last standing in front of the microphone, staring out into the sea of faces that was my family. Succumbing to my sudden impulse, I found myself gazing into Harry’s green eyes, seeing that they wide with terror. Harry’s full lips were parted, his eyes blinking furiously as he watched me struggle to adjust the microphone. Tearing my eyes from Harry’s, I cleared my throat, directing my eyes towards the papers I held in my trembling hands.

““Edward Gregory Cox was a difficult man to love.” I read aloud, momentarily stunned by the booming sound of my own voice. Glancing upwards, I saw that the entire room held baffled expressions on their faces. Swallowing hard, I glanced back down at my paper, thinking that volunteering for Harry might not have been such a good idea after all. Nonetheless, I continued to speak. “A decorated war veteran, Edward was born on January 6th, 1924 in the small village of Neston located in Cheshire’s North. Although war was still far off in the horizon for most, Edward knew that it was coming, and so prepared to enlist with the British Army the moment he had the chance. As fate would have it, this was the exact same time that Margaret Nora Peck, Edward’s future wife, would enter his life like a flash of lightning. Margaret was the cousin of Edward’s best friend, Richard Sawyer.” I glanced up towards the audience, locking eyes with my Grandmother’s, the eyes that reminded me so much of Harry’s. “To say the least, they loathed each other from the minute they spoke.” I concluded with a smile, the entire hall busting out in light laughter, my Grandmother’s being the loudest.

“Margaret challenged Edward, more than was deemed appropriate for a woman of her time. A proud young man, Edward tried his best to ignore Margaret and banish the swell in his chest each time he laid eyes on her vibrant green ones, banish the fluttering in his heart each time he caught sight of her fiery red hair. Also proud, Margaret decided to not wait around for Edward and at last gave a chance to the other young Neston men tirelessly vying for her heart. However, as the war drew nearer, the idea of any sort of future grew distant, and pride on both fronts flew out the window. In what I was told to be the most romantic public confession of love, Edward barged in on Margaret’s second date with one of the most sought after young suitors in town, got down on one knee, and proposed to Margaret. He proposed with no ring, a chance that he would maybe never return from the war, and no money – _with nothing to offer her but himself_.” I concluded, my voice shaking as a flood of emotions overtook me; _Harry, Zayn, my Grandfather_ –all of them began to circle my head like a pack of vultures, patiently waiting for their chance to swoop in.

“Yes, Edward was a difficult man to love,” I announced firmly. “But what was more difficult was to be loved by him in return –a feat that not many aside for a select few had been able to accomplish. They were his wife Margaret, his two daughters Anne and Gwen, his son George, and of undeniably, his oldest Grandson, Harry – _my brother_.” The last two words of my sentence caught in my throat, my entire body beginning to tremble in a mixture of terror and panic. Pausing in order to gather myself, it was Harry’s face, his softened green eyes that encouraged me to go on.  

Glancing back down at my messy penmanship, I swatted at the tears that had begun to blur my vision. “For those of you who know Harry, you are privy to the fact that he can brighten even the darkest of rooms by simply walking into it, that he will help you back onto your feet and help you face the world again even if you think you simply can’t. This gift of Harry’s managed to warm even the coldest of hearts, even a heart that had been hardened by years of war. Grandpa, to everyone’s disbelief, was under Harry’s spell the minute he laid eyes on him.” I paused, realizing in shock that at some point, I had stopped reading from my paper.

“A favourite memory of mine was the weekly picnics that Grandpa, Harry, and I would take to the park when I was eight and Harry ten. We would munch quietly on the delicious spread that Mum had prepared for us, never once having anything that remotely resembled a conversation.” I said, letting out a laugh that shortly after, turned into a sob. “Until one day,” I whispered. “When Harry piped up and asked, ‘ _Grandpa, what was the war like_?’” A childish question, but nonetheless it was one nobody had ever plucked up the courage to ask him. Grandpa did not answer right away, leaving me wondering if we had crossed a line by asking. It was then that Grandpa turned to Harry, furrowing his busy grey eyebrows. ‘ _Scary_.’ Grandpa answered. Another favourite memory of mine was of the night Grandpa granted Harry access into his liquor cabinet,” I allowed my eyes to flicker to Harry, giving him a cheeky smile as everyone erupted into laughter. “I think however, that is a story better left for another time.” I said, a smile still tugging at my lips.

Raising the cup of water that had been set on the podium, I raised it into the air. “To Grandpa, and to Harry, who allowed us to see Edward Gregory Cox for what he really was –a loving husband, father, grandfather, and most of all a survivor. And may Edward Gregory Cox continue to survive in _all of us_.” I concluded with a tearful smile. Harry was the only reason I got to know Grandpa at all, the only reason my time with him was bearable. And so I decided to thank Harry, for everything he’s done for me, and everything I know he’ll always continue to do. Gathering my papers, I quietly descended the steps of the podium.

As I ventured back towards my seat, my Grandmother smiled at me proudly, as did my Uncle George. Two rows back, I could see Pippa giving me the thumbs up. Chest swelling, I sat back down in my seat, once again, looking anywhere but in Harry’s direction.

“Well done, love.” My Mother turned to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Grandpa would be so proud.” She cooed, tenderly wiping her lipstick from my cheek.

A bright smile appeared on my lips. The whole speech had been worth it, just to see my Mother happy. “Thank-you, Mum.” I whispered, turning my head back towards the podium where the Priest had begun to speak again, nearly jumping when I felt Harry’s warm slowly envelop mine.

Stunned, I turned to Harry, my eyes instantly brimming with hot tears. Harry’s chest was heaving, his green eyes furiously searching my face in a mixture of guilt and agony. Tears had formed in Harry’s eyes, a summer rain over the Adriatic Sea. Sniffing, Harry’s gaze fell to his lap, and before I knew it, I had folded myself into his chest, squeezing him tightly. Harry’s frame stiffened beneath my embrace, relaxing after a moment. Resting his head on top of mine, Harry whispered “ _Forgive me_?” So quietly, that I could barely hear him.

Smiling into his chest, I inhaled Harry’s familiar scent, knowing that it was wrong to feel this way about him, to think these things about him, but allowing myself to not give a damn for a few seconds. “ _There’s nothing to forgive_.” I whispered.  

*

 

Once everyone had spilled out of St. Luke’s, I found standing myself alone in the Church, happy to have a few moments to myself. Scanning the various wooden pews in order to make sure they were deserted, I made my way towards the front of the Church, kneeling in front of the stained glass windows. Lacing my hands together, I held them up in prayer, and quietly began to speak. “God,” I began with an unsure whisper. “I know that we don’t speak often, and I know that on many occasions, I’ve decided that I don’t believe in you. I know however, in my heart that I do. I also know that you are the only one that can help me through this…” I trailed off, my face contorting. “ _I think I might be in love with my brother_ ,” I uttered, hot tears trailing down my cheeks. “But I don’t want to be.” I let out a gut-wrenching sob.

Could praying my feelings for Harry away work? Would it make them any less consuming, would it make them feel any more wrong? Part of me felt that I was doomed, trapped in a fate that had already been decided for me.

“ _Odette_.” Harry’s voice echoed from the back of the Church.

 Jumping to my feet, I whirled around, my heart thudding erratically when I saw that Harry was standing at the mouth of the Church, his green eyes curiously watching me and his hands tucked into his pockets. Had Harry heard me? Had he heard what I had said? A combination of dread and terror surged through my chest. “ _Yes_?” I breathed, suddenly feeling as if I was going to vomit.

Harry was staring at me, his eyes searching my face from where he was standing. Opening his mouth, Harry looked as if he was about to speak, closing his mouth and shutting his eyes. “We’ve loaded Grandpa into the hearse,” Harry began, his voice reverberating around us. “We’re leaving for the cemetery in a few minutes,” He said after a long pause.

My heart was still racing. “ _Okay_.” I managed to utter, “I’ll be out there soon.” I said, reaching up to wipe my eyes.

Harry watched me, once again opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again after a moment. “I’ll see you outside then.” Harry whispered, his clear green eyes searching mine before at last, he bowed his head and disappeared around the corner. Watching Harry’s retreating back, I knew that even God couldn’t help me anymore.

Twenty minutes later, we all found ourselves standing around the family plot. A cool breeze blew through my hair, and I found myself staring off into the distance, observing the vibrant green land littered with lost loved ones. How melancholy it was, that all the hardships these people had gone through ended up meaning nothing at all. They had gone right back to where they had come. _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust_. Glancing back to my family, I saw the feeble looking Priest hand Harry a heavy, leather-bound Bible. Sniffing, Harry bowed his head, flipping through the heavy religious text until he reached the verse he would be reading aloud. Grimly, I watched as the undertaker began to operate the pulley, slowly lowering Grandpa’s coffin into the ground. My Mother let out a loud sob, burying her face into Auntie Gwen’s shoulder. Next to me, I felt Pippa tighten her grip, squeezing my hand tightly in hers. Andrew held a sleeping Grace in her arms, rocking her back and forth as he watched on sadly.

Harry cleared his throat, blinking his green eyes furiously. “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name,” Harry’s raspy voice emerged from his throat. Furrowing my eyebrows, I could see that his hands were shaking. Harry was strong, this I knew –but even the strongest of us were weak sometimes, even someone as strong as Harry. “Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on Earth as in heaven give us our daily bread,” While Harry paused, I allowed myself to observe him. How handsome he looked, how vibrant –his green eyes far more splendid than even the green of the grass and the trees. “Forgive us of our s-sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” Harry stuttered, his green eyes flickering to mine. “Lead us not into _temptation_ , but deliver us from _evil_ ” Harry breathed, blinking repeatedly before returning his eyes to the text. “For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours. Now and forever. _Amen_.” Harry concluded, just as Grandpa’s coffin was settled deep in the ground. Gently handing the Bible back to the Priest, Harry solemnly made his way over to where Grandpa lay, gathering a handful of soil in his palm. A gentle breeze rustled Harry’s curls, and gently, he tossed the soil onto Grandpa’s coffin.

Before I knew it, I had slipped my hand out of Pippa’s, walking to where Harry was standing. Whipping his head towards me, he watched as I too gathered soil into my hands, gently throwing it into Grandpa’s resting place. “ _Ashes to ashes_ ,” I whispered, looking up at Harry to see that his green eyes were curiously searching my face. “ _Dust to dust_.” I concluded, my heart racing so loudly that I was sure even the dead could hear.          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling mistakes and errors! I'm always in such a rush to post I barely end up doing much editing etc. Anyways, lots more excitement to come. This is going to be a slow and painful burn guys, hope you're all quite pateint ;) Thanks in advance to everyone who takes the time to read and especially those who leave comments! Thanks so much! xo


	8. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Harry and Odette's weekend back in Holmes Chapel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To accompany this chapter, head over to youtube, type in 'Celtic Music' and click on the very first option titled '2 Hours of Celtic Music'. Cue the video at 24:41! This is the music I imagine playing throughout the fun bits of this chapter. Enjoy!

Leaning back into the cushions, a smile tugged at my lips as I watched Andrew dance with Grace to the upbeat Celtic music –an intoxicating mixture of fiddles, flutes, and pipes that had always been a favourite of Grandpa’s, blaring through the speakers of our ancient sound system. Taking her little hand into his, Andrew spun her around once, the skirt of Grace’s black dress billowing around her legs and her ribbon flying loose from her dark tendrils. Grace let out a gleeful yelp and insisted that Andrew spin her again. I let out a laugh when Andrew rolled his blue eyes, but conceded just as a good brother would and spun her around again and again until she could no longer stand and fell onto her tiny behind. This, I decided, was how a brother and sister should act –like the dearest of friends. Like they loved each other, not like they were _in_ love with each other. Years down the road, would Grace ever harbor feelings for Andrew? Would Pippa? Something told me they wouldn’t, and that I was quite alone in my sinning.   

Finding myself glancing around the living room, I could not help but marvel at the wake my Mother and Auntie Gwen had been able to arrange on such short notice. There was an abundance of food lining the far side of the living room –a large basket of Yorkshire puddings, mashed potatoes, an enormous ham,  and freshly baked dinner rolls were just a few of the things that my Mother and Aunt had prepared. Poking at my Yorkshire pudding that was now sopping wet with gravy, I found my gaze drifting towards my Grandmother’s black forest cake, balanced on its very own throne –a crystal cake holder that had been in our family for generations. I would surely have to secure a slice or two before anyone beat me to it.

Scanning past a collapsed Andrew and Grace, I saw that my Grandmother, Mother, Auntie Gwen, as well as Nora and Jessa were all seated at the dining room table, flipping through our aged photo albums and sharing memories of Grandpa. Part of me considered joining them, but I decided against it when I realized I wouldn’t have much to share. Any pleasant memories I had of Grandpa were in fact Harry’s memories, memories that I had been in the presence of. This of course, was why Harry had had a starring role in my eulogy for Grandpa. I could of course had spoken of my own memories regarding Grandpa, but I highly doubted him shoving me into a wall when I accidentally broke the ship in a bottle he had been working on for over a year would blow over well with the family. I had lied of course, when Harry with worried green eyes had asked me how I had managed to bruise the side of my face. To this day, I still think he knew I was lying.

 _Harry_. And with that my eyes flickered over to where Harry was standing by the bay windows, patiently listening to Pippa chatter away, a pleasant smile on his lips. Harry looked so much more content, happy even, his green eyes lit up as I knew they were still capable of.

“There’s this new girl in my year and we’ve heard she has four nipples,” Pippa drawled, spearing a Yorkshire pudding and ripping off a piece of it with her teeth. “Just like you, Harry.” She added, her mouth full with food.

An amused smirk appeared on Harry’s lips. “Does that mean she has four breasts?” He inquired in mock interest, his green eyes suddenly flickering to mine. Momentarily stunned by Harry’s glance, my heart literally skipped a beat when a small smile sprouted on his full pink lips. Blinking in surprise, I finally managed to smile back, my heart leaping out of my chest at the fact that Harry’s smile was directed at _me_. Perhaps whatever had been eating at him, whatever demons that had been overpowered him this past month, were gone at last, and Harry, _my Harry_ , was back.

Just then, my Uncle George and Step-Father breezed in through the open patio door. They had escaped outside earlier in order to indulge in a cigar. In my opinion, Uncle George was taking Grandpa’s death the hardest –his salt and pepper hair unkempt and dirty, his blue eyes constantly filled with tears. Picking up a crystal glass filled to the brim with champagne, Uncle George walked over to the middle of the living room, gently drumming it with his fingers nails. The high-pitched noise drew everyone’s attention towards my Uncle, Harry leaving a void in my chest when he tore his clear green eyes from mine.

“If I could have everyone’s attention for a moment,” My Uncle began, his voice overcome with emotion as he spoke over the music. “I would like to thank everyone for making today run so smoothly –Odette for your lovely speech,” Uncle George smiled tearfully at me. “Anne, Gwen for organizing everything so wonderfully,” George gestured to my Mother and Auntie Gwen who were smiling tearfully in return. “And of course, Harry for footing the bill.” George sniffed, glancing at Harry. Everything lightly chuckled at this, Harry bowing his head of curls bashfully.

“I propose that we all get completely pissed,” Uncle George continued, “Just like Dad would have wanted us to.” And with that, Uncle George tipped back the glass of champagne, downing its contents in one large gulp.

“Here, here!” My Grandmother exclaimed, holding her glass of champagne high in the air.

“To the bar!” Andrew roared, abandoning Grace and dashing towards our overly stacked mini-bar. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I glanced over at Harry to see that his green eyes were on me once again. Nodding my head towards the mini-bar, I raised my eyebrows and shrugged, silently suggesting we go over to the bar to show our cousins just how much we could out-drink them. Smirking in response, Harry bit his lip, nodding his head once and meandering towards the bar. Jumping up from my seat, I followed behind Harry, glancing over my shoulder to see a less than enthusiastic Pippa trailing behind. Turning back, I watched as Harry effortless jumped over the bar, landing solidly on the other side. With a bright smile, I watched as Harry trailed his fingers over the various bottles of liquor lining the cabinets.

“ _Tequila_.” Harry announced, plucking it from its place on the wall and thunking the bottle onto the surface of the bar.

Sliding onto the stool next to Andrew, Pippa materialized beside me, huffing once and blowing her dark bangs out of her eyes. “Drinking is for slags.” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval, just as Harry lined up four shot glasses along the counter. Unscrewing the bottle of tequila, he began to pour in concentration, Harry’s green eyes flickering upwards to mine when he began to pour my shot. Harry’s curls had come undone from his neatened hair style early that morning, his tie loosened ever so slightly. Glancing back down, Harry poured his own shot, not bothering to prepare one for Pippa.

“Suit yourself, Pippa.” I rolled my eyes, taking my shot into my hand.

A smile tugging at his lips, Harry did the same. “ _Cheers_.” He said quietly, his clear green eyes drilling into mine as he lifted his shot glass.

Swallowing, I smiled ever so slightly in return. “ _Cheers_.” I whispered, clinking my glass with Harry’s, and then Andrews, downing the thick liquid and scrunching up my face as it seared its way down my esophagus.

Six shots later, we all found ourselves in the garden, deciding to partake in a drunken game of ring-around-the-rosy with Grace before Auntie Gwen ushered her off to bed. My heart began to race when I felt Harry’s warm hand grasp mine, Pippa’s dainty hand wrapping around my other. And so we began to spin, loudly coursing out the childhood rhyme and collapsing onto the grass when we could no longer stand. Nighttime had set in, the stars rearing their iridescent heads in the black sky. We all lay in the grass for some time, Pippa filling us in on the most recent scandal that was making its rounds at her college. Blinking upwards at the spinning night sky, I closed my eyes for a moment, indulging in the cool summer breeze that was making its way across the panes of my face. Turning my head the side and resting it on the grass, I opened my eyes to see that Harry’s green ones were studying my face, trailing their way along my jaw line, towards my lips, and ending their journey when they curiously met with mine. Time was at a standstill, yet at the same time, was moving quickly due to the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through our veins. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed that way, simply looking into one another’s eyes, but the moment was long forgotten once we all ended up back inside the house two hours later.

It was just past midnight then, and Grace had long ago been put to bed by Auntie Gwen. On the couch across Harry and me, Andrew’s face was pressed into the cushions, his long legs dangling off the side of the sofa as he snored softly in slumber. Meanwhile, Pippa was curled up on the love seat on our left, also fast asleep. Outside, we could faintly hear my Uncle George and Step-Father taking part in a drunken rendition of ‘The Parting Glass.’ I had managed to secure the last piece of black forest cake, and sliding my fork through it, I popped a bite in my mouth. Looking up I saw that Harry was watching me, a drunken smile tugging at his lips. Swallowing my bite, I smiled back at him, securing another piece on my fork.

“Looks like Andrew’s pissed himself.” Harry observed with a smirk, gesturing towards Andrew with his beer and then knocking back the last quarter of it. Harry’s tie was now completely undone, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt opened and revealing a sliver of his sun kissed chest and sparrow tattoos along his collarbones.

Glancing towards Andrew, I let out a loud snort when I saw a pool of wetness spreading outwards from his crotch. “Mum’s going to have a fucking fit.” I squealed quietly, glancing back at Harry to see that his green eyes were on me, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Is that cake any good?” Harry inquired softly, taking my fork and popping a large piece of it into his mouth. Chewing, Harry nodded his head in approval. Seeing that a smear of icing had smeared itself on the side of Harry’s lift, I could not help but launch into a bout of giggles, drunkenly pointing at Harry’s face.

“ _What_?!” Harry laughed, his smile growing wider. “Is there something on my face?” He inquired, licking his lips in an attempt to clear it, only resulting in me laughing harder. “Odette!” Harry whined, grinning wider.

Composing myself, I placed my plate of cake onto the coffee table, shimmying across the couch towards Harry. “Here, let me.” I grinned, narrowing my eyes in concentration as I wiped the icing off Harry’s lip with my finger. Glancing up, my breath caught in my throat when I saw that Harry’s green eyes were on me, his pupils dilated and his pink lips parted ever so slightly. “There.” I concluded quietly, licking the icing off my fingers.

Blinking at me, Harry swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “Odette,” He began, glancing down at his lap. “I wanted to thank you,” He paused, lifting his green eyes to mine once again. “For your speech about Grandpa…and _me_.” He added quietly, licking his lips. “I didn’t deserve that, with how I’ve been treating you recently.”

Finding myself staring at Harry, I quickly averted my eyes to my lap, feeling a hot flush making its way across my cheeks. “You’re very welcome, Harry.” I said quietly, suddenly remembering the gift I had for him at the mention of Grandpa’s name. “Speaking of Grandpa,” I began, quickly changing the subject. “I have something for you.” I smiled, reaching into the pocket of my black dress and securing Grandpa’s dog tags from the war that I had found earlier that morning. Offering them to Harry, I dropped them into his outstretched hands, watching as his green eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “I thought you might like to have them.” I whispered.

At this, Harry’s eyes flickered towards mine, an indescribable storm of confusion and sadness brewing in their bottomless pools of green. Blinking at me repeatedly, Harry opened his mouth, hesitating before he spoke. “I don’t know what to say.” He whispered, his eyes searching my face.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I told him, my chest rising and falling gently.

Suddenly, Harry was pulling me into his strong chest, his arms finding their way around my waist. Allowing myself to mold into his chest, my hands trailed their way along the strong planes of his back, each muscle, each contour, tangible beneath my finger tips. Resting my chin on Harry’s shoulder, I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, savoring the moment and taking in all the Harry that I could.

We stayed that way for some time, and when we finally pulled back from one another, our faces were inches apart. Heart thudding, my eyes searched Harry’s familiar face –his green eyes, pink lips, sun kissed skin. Harry was staring back at me, a pained expression in his wide green eyes and his chest heaving. Suddenly, I felt the black strap of my dress fall down my shoulder. Without thinking about it, Harry’s hand darted out, the breath hitching in my throat as his fingers blazed across the skin of my arm, the pounding of my heart roaring in my ears. Painstakingly slow, Harry’s fingers returned the strap of my dress to its previous position, his hand lingering across my skin before falling back to his lap. Breathing hard, I glanced back up at Harry, seeing that the colour had drained from his face, his entire body trembling and his green eyes blinking at me in terror.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, Harry was up on his feet, darting past me and out of the living room, leaving me staring listlessly ahead as my Uncle and Step-Father rung out the final line of ‘The Parting Glass.’

 _Goodnight and joy be with you all_.

Feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes, I glanced past my shoulder to see that Harry was indeed gone, also observing that Pippa’s dark eyes were open -awake and as vibrant as a pair of burning coals as they gazed back into mine.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up slowly but surely, for Odette and Harry. Expect lots more to come! I'll try to have the next update posted in two days to give you all a chance to read the new installments! <3 xo


	9. Sacrifice (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Odette return to tour. Major discord between our two protagonists takes place as well as the addition of two less than desired (at least according to Odette) individuals to One Direction's European tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your flawless comments! Keep them coming <3 xo

“ _Buongiorno_! This is your captain speaking.” A man’s thick Italian accent boomed jovially over our plane’s loud speaker. “On behalf of Alitalia, we would like to thank you for flying with us. We will be approaching Verona Villafranca Airport within the next thirty minutes. Please remain in your seats until the plane is no longer in motion. Enjoy your stay in Verona, the city of _love_.” He drawled flirtatiously, eliciting a few chuckles from the flight’s handful of passengers.

Verona was many things, but a city of _love_? –Maybe according to Shakespeare.

Scrolling through my Twitter feed, I half-heartedly skimmed past the various well wishes of fans that had finally got wind of our Grandfather’s death –genuinely surprised that they had decided to include me in the world wide trend they had arranged for Harry: #StayStrongHarryandOdette. Normally quite inactive on Twitter and social media in general, I took the opportunity to thank everyone for their concern, mostly due to the fact that Harry had decided to stay completely silent on the matter –just as he had decided to stay completely silent during the entire duration of our flight.

But then again, I too had remained _silent_.

Stealing a glance at Harry from beneath my lashes, I saw that his green eyes were trained forward –unblinking and glued to the back of the seat in front of him. Unkempt curls tucked beneath a navy blue beanie, the dark circles had reappeared, engraving themselves beneath Harry’s vibrant green eyes. Not one word had been exchanged between us, not one glance since the night of Grandpa’s wake. Continuing to study Harry’s tired face –the delicate swoop of his nose, the way that his eyebrows knitted together, and the subconscious clenching of his jaw as he focused straight ahead. Clad in tight black jeans, a black shirt, and blue cardigan, tucked into Harry’s shirt just past the two sparrows near his collarbone was the worn silver chain of our Grandfather’s dog tags. Allowing my gaze to venture along the swell of his strong chest, my eyes travelled along Harry’s lean forearms and to his fingers, the fingers that I could still feel burning on my skin.  

Blinking his lashes rapidly, it appeared that Harry was struggling to stay awake; fighting off whatever monster awaited him in his dreams.

My blood ran cold, a pang of horror searing through my chest. Could the reason for Harry’s behavior, the reason for his turmoil be that he knew of my feelings for him, that they disgusted him so much they kept him up at night, that they haunted even his dreams? The thought alone had me whipping my head forward, throat constricting and staring straight ahead just as Harry did. It would explain everything, Harry’s sudden revulsion towards me, the way he erratically shifted from loving me to hating me just as he had during our time in Holmes Chapel.

Breath hitching in my throat, I could see Harry’s gaze flicker to my face from the corner of my eye. Green eyes wide, Harry opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, a miserable expression appearing on his face. Harry studied my face for a few seconds longer in a mixture of anguish and confusion, his brows creasing in concentration while his green eyes drilled into me. With a frustrated sigh, Harry tore his gaze away from me at last, laying his head against the airplane’s thick glass window. Training his green eyes on the passing ocean, I did not dare look in Harry’s direction until I saw his lashes slowly but surely flutter _closed_.

Turning to gaze upon Harry, I found myself wishing, craving even, to know what was in his head. _Perhaps_ , I realized, _perhaps there was a way_. Eyes flickering to Harry’s lap, I found myself intensely gazing at the beat up leather-bound journal he totted around everywhere, tucked securely beneath his strong arm. Only when Harry’s breaths were long and deep and I was certain that he was asleep did I edge closer to him, heart thudding erratically as I reached for his journal. Flitting my eyes to Harry’s face again, I saw that his full lips were parted in slumber. Glancing back down, I grazed my fingers along the spine of the aged brown leather of Harry’s journal, grasping it at the top. Blood roaring in my ears, I slowly began to pull it from beneath Harry’s arm.

Inching the journal forward, I had just begun to make progress when suddenly the plane jilted violently, rattling the entire compartment and sending one of the air hostesses screeching and stumbling forward. In a panic, I retracted my hand from Harry’s journal, squeezing my eyes shut and lolling my head against my shoulder in order to feign sleep. Just then, I could hear Harry jolt forward in his seat, startled awake from his slumber.

“ _Odette_.” Harry exclaimed in desperation, his breaths shallow and erratic. Heart stopping, I did not breathe, did not move even an inch, knowing that my ears had not deceived me. _Harry had spoken my name_. Feeling Harry stir next to me, he was heaving out quick and anxious breaths. Harry’s head turned to me then, and I knew that his green eyes were studying me, confirming that I was asleep. Face relaxed and lips parted, I took long and slow breaths, hoping that Harry would not suspect I was awake, that I had heard him utter my name upon waking. A defeated sigh emerged from Harry’s lips, and I could hear him stir again, allowing his head to fall against the airplane window’s thick glass.

Allowing my eyes to open at last, it was just in time to see Harry’s brown lashes flutter closed. I didn’t yet know why, but this much I knew, _it was me who haunted his dreams_.     

*

_Verona, Italy_

Harry and I rode the Palazzo Victoria’s luxurious elevator in silence. Chest heaving, I could feel Harry’s gaze burning into the side of my face. It was indisputable. _Harry knew about my shameful feelings for him_. Perhaps I was more obvious than I had intended to be; perhaps he had finally noticed my lingering gazes.

The thought alone of Harry knowing my feelings for him, of Harry knowing that I was attracted to him in ways that were not brotherly sent my vision tilting sideways. Pressing my palm against the cool metal of the elevator’s spacious cage, I attempted to support my swaying frame. Whatever this was, whatever fucked up thing that was going on inside of me was breaking Harry and breaking our relationship as siblings. I simply could not stand by and be the cause of Harry’s turmoil, could not be the reason for Harry’s nightmares for one second longer. Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew then that I had to get over it somehow, that I had to get Harry out of my system. Like a drug however, I knew that withdrawal from him would be painful, unbearable even. But with a distraction, a rehabilitation of sorts, perhaps it was not too late to salvage my and Harry’s relationship as brother and sister.

Flitting my gaze to Harry, I saw that his tired green eyes were narrowed at me, intensely studying my face.

“Can I help you with something?” I snapped, eyes wide and crossing my arms across my chest. I had to quell Harry’s suspicions, had to throw him off my trail, had to snuff out my affliction. The only way I knew to do this was to be unusually cruel to Harry, to thrust myself into my relationship with Zayn.

Stunned that I had caught him, Harry simply blinked his green eyes at me, quickly averting his gaze. “No.” He muttered quietly, clenching his jaw and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. Ignoring the dull ache in my chest as I observed the side of his face, I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this was necessary and that Harry and my future as siblings relied upon it.

 “ _I thought so_.” I concluded sourly, directing my eyes back to the metal doors when the elevator dinged, informing us that we had at last reached the tenth floor. Unable believe my luck, a gleeful smile appeared on my lips when the heavy metal doors slid open to the form of Zayn Malik, his dark head bowed and typing away on his mobile. Glancing up from his mobile, Zayn’s dark eyes widened in surprise. Clad in a pair of grey jeans, boots, and a white t-shirt, Zayn was his flawless self –smoldering brown eyes, thick black hair, and full pink lips. On any other day, the sight of Zayn would send me into a frenzy. Today however, I could not help but notice the stillness of my beating heart.

“Odette-” Zayn began to breathe my name, cut off when I flung myself to him and crushed my lips on his. Taking Zayn’s face into my hands, I deepened our kiss, sighing impetuously against his full lips. Staggering backwards, Zayn steadied the both of us, his arms snaking their way around my hips. Harry had to be watching, had to be questioning any suspicions he had regarding my feelings for him.

Laughing against my lips, Zayn broke away for air. “It’s good to see you too.” He whispered with jokingly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. Zayn’s brown eyes were searching mine, as unmoving as two pieces of coal embedded into the Earth. Zayn was my stability, Zayn was my constant. Zayn would help me forget whatever darkness had been building inside of me, would help me forget Harry.

“ _I love you too_.” I blurted out, loud enough for Harry to hear. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. It was stupid and petty of me.” I said emphatically, trailing my fingers along Zayn’s strong jaw and over the black stubble that lined his cheeks. I hoped that this confession would convince Harry, and perhaps it would even convince me too.

Zayn was blinking at me, his dark eyes drilling into mine. “You do?” He inquired in pleasant surprise, a triumphant grin appearing on his lips.

At this I could hear the elevator ding, realizing that Harry had not yet exited it. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Harry still stood in the elevator, his entire frame shaking as his stunned green eyes shifted from me to Zayn and back to me. Chest heaving, Harry appeared to be frozen in place, his fists balled up against his sides and his jaw clenching up in agony. I could feel the panic suddenly rising in my throat, a wave of terror washing over me. _Why was he looking at me like that_? My stomach panged as the doors began to slide shut, Harry’s green eyes still on mine when they closed completely and the elevator began its descent back towards the ground level, luggage and all.

My ears began to ring, my eyes listlessly blinking at the now shut elevator doors. Shifting my gaze to the small screen above the elevator, I watched at the numbers continued to decrease - _10, 9, 8, 7_ , Harry plummeting back towards the ground floor. Attempting to mask the horror on my face, I turned back to Zayn to see that his dark eyes were surveying me, his expression unreadable aside for a crease between his eyebrows. Zayn was staring at me with uncertainty, his chest heaving. _He found it strange as well_ , my mind whispered.

Regaining my composure, I put on a flirtatious smile, hoping to distract Zayn from Harry’s odd reaction. “Come on.” I grinned, taking Zayn’s hand into mine and pulling him towards our shared room as if nothing was amiss, as if the expression on Harry’s face was still not burned in my mind. Reaching the correct door, Zayn watched curiously as I plucked the key card from his pocket, quickly inserting it into the scanner and retracting it. “I hope you didn’t have anything important planned.” I cooed, trailing my fingers along the strong panes of his chest.

Zayn’s dark eyes surveyed me curiously, and I wondered if like me, he was still thinking of Harry. “Fuck my plans.” He announced, crushing his lips to mine and violently pushing open the door to our room.

Stumbling into the darkness of our room, Zayn and I viciously explored each other, my fingers running through his thick hair and Zayn’s hands squeezing my behind. Finding our way over to the bed, Zayn was on top of me, his hard cock pressing against my sex. Tugging Zayn’s shirt from his back, Zayn tore mine from my flesh in return, freeing my breasts from the constraints of the black La Perla bra I had selected that morning. As Zayn’s tongue flitted over my nipples, his hands ushering me out of my jeans and thong, I could see nothing but green in the blackness, see nothing but Harry’s contorting face as the elevator’s doors enveloped it.

At last we were both naked, and I found myself leaning Zayn down onto the mattress, smelling the smoke on his fingers as they caressed my face tenderly. Taking my hands into his, Zayn helped me ease myself onto him. I hissed in momentary pain, my insides molding to Zayn’s shape –a key to its lock. Allowing myself to enfold along him, I found it strange how I managed to feel so empty when I was so full, so barren when I was suffocating. Zayn let out a low moan when I tensed around him, his hands traveling to the fat on my hips and squeezing them.

Tilting my head towards the ceiling, I began to move, sliding up and down Zayn’s length, slow at first and then increasing my tempo. Letting out quick and hot breaths, I could feel Zayn sit up below me, desperately bucking his hips against mine and meeting me in the middle, my slick breasts grazing his chest. Placing one hand on the small of my back, Zayn pulled me towards him, placing a frenzied kiss on my lips as he continued to fuck me from beneath.

I let out a cry as Zayn plowed into me, my mind’s eye conjuring the scent of evergreen in the stead of smoke, of lush brown beneath my fingertips instead of coal black. When what little light in the room refracted in Zayn’s ochre irises, I imagined that I was seeing a cool and temperate Adriatic green. Biting my shoulder roughly, I could feel Zayn come violently, seizing beneath me. I too was swallowed, by an orgasm that was not Zayn’s, enveloped by closing elevator doors and plummeting towards the ground.

Green, green, everywhere green.

As my insides contracted around Zayn and I was hit with wave after wave of pleasure, I knew it belonged to Harry and that I too belonged to him.   


	10. Sacrifice (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two unwelcome guests join the One Direction entourage. This only adds to Odette's uneasiness. An altercation leads Odette to make a difficult choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos! Without further delay, Sacrifice (Part II)!

Slipping into my panties, I stole a discreet glance at Zayn, watching the muscles ripple in his back as he pulled a fresh black shirt over his head. Chest aching, I yearned for the previous year, yearned for a time I was so in love with Zayn that I could barely see straight. Had he known I had not come for him just now? Had he known that his eyes were not the ones staring into mine when my body succumbed to pleasure? That in the blackness, all I could see, and hear, and taste was _green_? Shoving my head through the same flowy white shirt I had been wearing earlier –discarded halfway across the room in the throes of passion, I was certain that Zayn had no idea whatsoever, and that he thought me as in love with him as he was with me.

Reaching for his iPhone that had hastily been strewn on the bedside table, Zayn slid at the lock screen, his dark eyes scanning a lengthy text message.

“Who is it?” I cooed, sauntering up behind Zayn and wrapping my arms around his waist. Glancing past Zayn’s shoulder, it was just in time to see him quickly close the message.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Zayn turned around to face me, wrapping his arms around my waist in return. “Niall.” He answered nonchalantly, an easy smile appearing on his lips. “Wants us to come say hello to a friend of his downstairs.” Zayn added, softly pressing his lips to mine

“Oh?” I pondered aloud when Zayn pulled back, wondering which of Niall’s friends was important enough for us to have to meet so formally. “Can’t we just see them later?” I suggested playfully, a coy smile finding my lips as I trailed a finger along Zayn’s jaw. Niall would assuredly have told Harry to come as well, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I could bear to look into his green eyes just yet, to have to see his agonized face that the elevator doors have enveloped just twenty minutes before.

Wetting his lips, Zayn leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “Trust me,” He grinned. “I’d much rather stay here,” Zayn told me musically, his hands trailing from my waist down the curve of my back and slipping past my underwear, tightly squeezing my behind. “But Niall is really fucking cute when he’s adamant.” He concluded with a twitch of his lips.

I rolled my eyes heavily, not bothered by Zayn’s touch but not _moved_ by it either, like the tectonic shift I had felt when Harry’s fingers trailed my skin. “Niall is pretty hard to resist when he’s all fucking cute like that.” I sighed in defeat, taking Zayn’s face into my hands and giving him a quick peck on the lips, suffocating the worry that churned in the pit of my stomach. “But after the concert tonight, you’re _mine_.” I told Zayn with a pointed whisper. “Yeah?”

Zayn’s dark eyes searched mine, a smile appearing on his lips after a moment. “ _Yeah_.” He told me, in scarcely a whisper.

* * *

 

Following Zayn out into the hotel’s intricately tiled lobby, we saw that Niall, Liam, and Louis were seated in the Palazzo Victoria’s common area, collapsed on the plush seats surrounding the roaring fire. Diving into one of the empty seats, Zayn kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, playfully raising his eyebrows at me. At this, Niall’s head whipped around, his shock of blonde hair catching the flicker of the red and orange flames. “Odette, you’re back!” He exclaimed, a thousand watt smile appearing on his face when he saw that I had returned from Holmes Chapel. Jumping to his feet, Niall pulled me into a bone crushing hug.

“ _Oof_!” I managed to squeak before Niall had taken me hostage. “Get off me you lunatic!” I laughed after a moment, my voice muffled against Niall’s shoulder. Niall’s constant stream of happiness was usually infectious, but today, today it was comparable to the dragging of fingernails across a chalkboard. 

“Whoops!” Niall laughed apologetically, releasing me from his grasp. “Sorry ‘Dettie I’m just so excited for you to meet the girls properly! Where is Harry anyways?” He inquired excitedly, darting his blue eyes around the lobby area. “I told him to come join us but I’ve gotten no response!”

I attempted not to flinch at Niall’s simultaneous mention of Harry as well as the use of my dreadful nickname, ignoring the green eyes that attempted to push their way into my mind. “ _I don’t know where he is_.” I drawled through clenched teeth, suppressing the panic that was slowly rising in my throat. Suddenly, the second part of Niall’s statement registered in my mind, and I knew he wasn’t referring to Danielle and Eleanor. “What girls?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Bonjour mes amis!” A sickeningly sweet voice interjected from behind me, along with the sound of rolling luggage.

Slowly turning on my heel, I nearly choked when I saw he two French girls from Le Cab heading straight towards us –Marie, the brunette that Niall had been interested in, and the beautiful red-head Emma whose shameless flirting with Zayn had led me to downing nameless pills. Scarcely able to contain my shock, I whipped my head towards Zayn to gauge his reaction, seeing that he wore a pleasant smile on his lips and did not seem to be as stunned as I was. _He had known about it the whole time_ , I thought, my entire body beginning to tremble with anger.

Turning back to the two French sluts, I allowed my gaze to scan over Emma, a notable frown embedding itself on my lips. With luscious dark red hair and hazel coloured eyes, Emma’s features were pixie-like –high cheek bones, arched eyebrows, and a ski-sloped nose whereas Marie’s features were softer, but nonetheless striking. Wide eyed, Emma followed dutifully behind Marie, turning in on herself and looking rather nervous. Lighting fast, I saw Emma’s eyes flicker to Zayn, and then towards me. Holding her gaze, my look was murderous enough for her to quickly avert her eyes to the ground.

Diving past me, Niall pulled Marie into a tight squeeze, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from the French girl. “It is nice to see you too, Niall!” Marie laughed.

Pulling back from Marie, Niall wore a love-struck grin on his face, his blue eyes searching Marie’s. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Niall uttered playfully.

“ _Of course I was going to_.” Marie said, a smile spreading across her pink lips.

Rolling my eyes heavily, I turned to Louis, whispering loudly enough for both Niall and Marie to hear. “I wonder how long their conversations last before someone needs a dictionary.” Sputtering, Louis’s stony expression threatened to crack with laughter. Grinning at Louis’ reaction, I glanced back towards Niall and Marie, my eyes flickering to Emma after a moment. Smile fading, I saw that once again she was gazing at Zayn, this time longingly and unaware that I was watching her. _This bitch was asking for it_ , I decided, when suddenly it struck me that I should glance at Zayn. Flitting my eyes to where Zayn sat, the horror that shot through my chest was indescribable, when I saw that Zayn’s dark eyes were looking back at Emma, a smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

 

It was one hour before the concert at Arena di Verona and Harry Styles was _missing_ , _vanished, gone_.

Chaos ensued and the band’s entire entourage searched high and low for Harry, even going as far as searching Verona’s ancient streets. Just as Paul was seconds away from notifying the authorities, with the help of ten Veronese police officers Harry strolled past screaming fans and into the arena, with only minutes to spare before One Direction was set to appear on stage. When Harry had disappeared, I had been stricken with panic, everyone writing off my behavior as concern, worry. And although I was both concerned and worried about Harry’s disappearance, it was because I couldn’t help but feel responsible for him leaving, _guilty_ of causing it even. That for some reason, I was to blame, that it was my entire fault. Each time I closed my eyes, all I could see were Harry’s stunned green ones, and his face, his _beautiful_ face, twisted in agony. At once I discarded the thought, thinking that it was ridiculous, preposterous to even entertain the thought.

The boys went on to give a performance for the books, regardless of Harry’s evident lack of enthusiasm. He was distant, robotic even, lacking all of the passion that his singing usually dripped with. I wasn’t sure if it was only me who noticed, me who saw the blank expression on Harry’s face and his unfocused green eyes. If it had only been me noticing right then, everyone knew by the end when Harry failed to come out to perform his solo track ‘Always’, Niall usually accompanying on guitar. The lights simply went out, and as soon as it had begun, the concert had ended. Like all of his fans, even I felt empty, vacant having not heard the words of my most favourite song.

_You’ve always been the one_

_You’ve always been the one_

The words were echoing in my mind as I downed a shot of cringe-worthy Italian rum. Ignoring the advances of the ruggedly handsome and over-thirty bartender, I glanced around the mostly deserted Hartigan’s Irish Pub that Niall had insisted on visiting based on its name alone. Fragrant with native jasmine and orange-tree flower, although Hartigan’s Irish pub was ornate with shamrocks and Guinness beer posters, its walls were an aged brown and likely built during the Renaissance. It was challenging, to not be swept up by the Shakespearean allure of the city, difficult not to imagine the struggles of a fictional Romeo and Juliet.

Requesting another shot from the bartender, I decided to head back to where I had left Danielle and Eleanor, a warm breeze slipping through the open windows and ruffling my hair. Glancing up from my feet, I froze in place when I saw that Harry had discreetly arrived at the bar, unbeknownst to the rest of us. Clad in the same outfit he had worn on stage –tight black jeans and a fitted white dress shirt, my stomach descended to the ground when I saw that Harry wore a bright white smile on his lips, a smile that the girl he was speaking with had drawn out of him. The girl was beautiful, statuesque with long flowing blonde hair and hypnotic grey eyes. Chest heaving, I watched on in horror as Harry leaned forward, his pink lips grazing the girl’s ear as he whispered into it. The girl threw her head back in laughter after a moment. Grinning, she replied lowly, her grey eye’s on Harry’s green ones.

The pain that shot through my core literally took my breath away. Clutching at my chest, a dull ache began to radiate behind my ribs, leaving me staggering into a detached wall. My pain magnified when the modelesque girl rested her hand on Harry’s chest, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he began to gravitate towards her. Averting my eyes quickly, I knew that Harry had kissed her, knew that his lips had met with hers in passion. Letting out a shallow breath, I could feel the panic rising in my throat. This was not simply envy I felt, jealousy even, this was _grief, devastation_.

It took a moment for me to compose myself, to refuse myself another glance in Harry’s direction and prevent myself from feeling the unspeakable pain again. I did not want to feel this way. I wanted my old, simple life. I wanted to run in the trails again. I wanted to love Zayn again. _I wanted Harry_.

I needed to find Zayn, needed to suffocate myself in his lips. Stumbling back towards the bar, I took a sharp turn towards the aged, leather-upholstered booths where everyone sat, nearly crumbling to the ground when I saw that they were completely deserted, aside for Zayn and Emma. With flushed cheeks, Emma was innocently leaned forward, attentively observing whatever Zayn was showing her on his cell phone. Nodding her head of dark red hair as Zayn went on, Emma launched into a fit of drunken giggles at his words, Zayn smiling on as he watched her, his dark eyes searching the side of her face. Glancing up from her beer, Emma smiled shyly at Zayn, her cheeks reddening even further.

It felt as if the breath had squeezed out of me, as if a concrete block crushed the air from my lungs. I had lost control. I had lost Zayn. I had lost Harry. I had lost myself.

And now, _now I had nothing at all_.

* * *

 

Stepping out from behind the shower curtain, my mouth was parched. The hotel’s bathroom was boiling following my hot shower, and I could scarcely see past the waves of steam that billowed in front of me. As beads of water descended down my glistening body, I reached for a towel, securing it tightly over my breasts. Standing in front of the fogged up mirror, I ignored the sick churning in my stomach that could only mean impending doom, impending tragedy. Feeling a cool draft make its way past my moist skin, I shivered involuntarily, thinking that I should get dressed and head to sleep before I caught my death of cold. Reaching up, I ran my hand across the wetness of the mirror in order to examine my face. Standing on my toes, I wildly wiped my hands across the mirror’s damp surface until not a trace of steam remained, at least for the time being. Settling back down onto my heels and glancing into the mirror, I froze when my eyes locked with Harry’s green ones.

Standing directly behind me, Harry’s chest was heaving, his green eyes blinking at me, an unreadable expression on his face. Brown eyes wide with horror, I stared at Harry, unable to contain my shock. “ _Harry_ ,” I breathed weakly, my eyes searching his –as vibrant as freshly fallen raindrops. “ _What are you doing_?” I whispered, my breath hitching when suddenly, Harry had pressed himself against me. I gasped when I felt Harry’s hardness, straining against his jeans and into my behind. Unable to move and unable to breathe, I froze in place as Harry lifted his hand, meeting his fingers with my skin in a toxic mixture of electricity and lust. Refusing the urge to gasp, my breasts rose and fell rapidly as Harry dragged his ring-clad fingers up the skin of my arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Eyes still locked with mine, Harry hooked his fingers into my towel, right where I had secured it with a makeshift knot. Green eyes boring into mine, in one swift motion, Harry tugged at the knot with his index finger, freeing my breasts and exposing my body as it unraveled to the floor. At once the hunger had me by my throat, my sex pulsating unforgivably between my legs.

Blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that it had nearly rendered me deaf. “ _Harry_.” I begged weakly, in my last attempt at refusing myself, and fighting the darkness that stirred between my thighs.

Harry’s green eyes travelled along the swells of my breasts, past my raised nipples and along curve of my waist. Settling on my freshly shaved sex fleetingly, my breath hitched when Harry’s green eyes flitted back to mine.

“Please.” I said, looking from Harry’s eyes into my own brown ones, watching as his hand rose and  gently pushed my sopping blonde hair to the side. Wetting his pink lips, Harry grazed them along the curve of my neck, and with that the fight in me was gone. Leaning my head back in ecstasy, Harry’s hand slid along the curve of my hip, squeezing so tightly that a hoarse moan slipped past my lips. Running his hand up my waist, Harry settled his fingers under my breast, cupping it in the curve of his palm. The wetness was pooling between my legs, my sex aching so strongly that I arched into Harry’s hardness further. Running his fingers over my sun kissed nipples; Harry grasped my breast in his large hand, his other descending to my sex.

A throbbing cry slipped past my lips when Harry began to rub me in furious circles. Gasping, I allowed my head to fall against Harry’s strong chest, reaching my arm black to clutch the back of his neck, feeling the cool silver chain of our Grandfather’s dog tags beneath my finger tips.

“ _I love you, Odette._ ” Harry breathed longingly into my ear, in the same desperate tone he had called for me on the flight to Verona. The way my name sounded on his lips sent me reeling, towards orgasm, towards chaos, and towards rapture. Green eyes locked with mine, I flung my head back as I was enveloped with pleasure, wetness shooting between my thighs and onto Harry’s fingers.

Jolting upwards in bed, I could feel myself coming, shuddering violently into the waking world, into reality. Gasping as my hips bucked up and down against my mattress, I realized then that it had as always, been only a _dream_. Feeling tears rush to my eyes, I let out a heart-wrenching sob at my misfortune. Everything came rushing back from that night’s festivities, Harry, the Italian girl, Zayn, Emma, my brother’s green eyes as they were swallowed by the elevator’s closing doors. Diving from my bed and onto the floor, I glanced at blearily at the hotel provided iDock. It was only midnight. Hazily, I recalled leaving the bar as soon as I had encountered Zayn and Emma’s flirtation.

Searching wildly for a pair of shorts and t-shirt, I shed my sweated-through nightgown, deciding that perhaps a run in the hotel’s gym would set my mind at ease, that perhaps I could run off whatever evil festered inside of me. Slipping into my running shoes, I ducked into the hallway, relieved when I saw that it was deserted. Rapidly hitting the button for the elevator, I slid through the barely open doors, shutting my eyes as the doors closed.

Entering the gym a few minutes later, I nearly choked when I saw that running on one of the hotel’s two treadmills was Emma. Chest heaving, I stared ahead in shock, watching as Emma’s red hair billowed past her shoulders with each stride. I entertained leaving without any detection, but knew that it was not in my nature. And so with my head held high, I descended onto the treadmill next to Emma, seeing her head whip towards me from the corner of my eye.

Setting the treadmill’s speed to three, I took slow and even breaths, easing into my run. Heavily breathing, I saw Emma glance at me from below her lashes, reaching her hand up to increase her speed by a few notches. Narrowing my eyes, I felt warmed up enough to increase my speed substantially, raising it to five and breaking into a sprint. By the flash of anger in her hazel eyes, I could tell that I was at a higher speed. Angrily jabbing the speed button on her treadmill, Emma was up to half five, gasping for air as she ran. Bitch, bitch, bitch, I screamed in my mind, something snapping in my mind. Jumping from my still running treadmill and onto the ground, I was no longer in control. She could _never_ compete with me. Zayn would _never_ be hers. Emma glanced at me in terror as she still ran, just in time to see my hands fly out and violently push her off the treadmill.

Staring on in horror at what I had just done, I watched Emma’s head slam into wall, her body falling from the treadmill and onto the floor with a hard thud. A blood-curdling scream echoed around me, one that I realized came from my own mouth. Staggering into the wall behind me, it was just as Paul Higgins came charging through the door, drenched in sweat from his own work out in the weight room. Paul’s blue eyes shot wide open when he saw Emma’s unconscious body on the floor, a large gash on her ivory forehead.

“I pushed her, I pushed her.” The hysterical words spilled from my mouth, my voice shaking.

Glancing at me in a mixture of horror and disgust, Paul dashed over to Emma and began to take her vitals.

Heart thudding in my chest, I could feel the blood draining from my face. “Is she alright?” I whispered in terror.

Paul let out a sigh of relief, likely feeling Emma’s pulse beneath his fingertips. “What were you thinking, Odette?” Paul snapped, training his blue eyes on me. “You could have killed her!”

I let out an unearthly whine, a sob erupting from my mouth. Paul didn’t understand, didn’t know what was going on in my head. Something told me even I didn’t understand. Hysterically pushing off from against the wall, I broke into a sprint, crashing through the gym doors, ignoring Paul’s shouting of my name. My lungs felt as if they were about to explode, sobs wracking my shoulders as I ran. I did not stop until I was outside, the cool Verona night trickling through my hair. Dashing around the corner of the hotel, I found myself in a deserted courtyard, which like Hartigan’s pub was in its original state of magnificence. Descending onto the cobblestone, I wrapped my arms tightly around my frame, examining my surroundings. The Palazzo Victoria’s courtyard consisted of an intricate maze of shrubbery as well as a small garden -a concoction of jasmine, white roses, and violets. Not a meter further stood a majestic and aged fountain, two naked and anguished stone lovers spouting water into the night sky.

Sniffing loudly, I took a deep shaking breath, glancing up towards the starry night sky. The moon was full that night, perhaps brighter than I had ever seen it before. As it dipped behind a bank of black clouds, when it emerged, I swore that its shade was the slightest bit blue.

“Odette?” A voice came from behind me.

Whirling on my heel, I tried my best not to express the shock and panic I felt when I saw that Harry sat on a wooden bench no more than a few meters away from me, his leather-bound journal propped open on his lap. The moonlight lit up his entire face, giving it an otherworldly glow, refracting hypnotically in his green irises. I opened my mouth to speak, heaving out a sob instead of words. Slamming his journal shut and abandoning it on the bench, Harry jumped to his feet. “Odette, what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows creasing in the middle and his green eyes wide.

Staring at Harry, my chest began to ache, nearly knocking me off my feet. “ _Stay back_!” I cried, tears spilling from beneath my lashes as Harry halted his approached, a hurt expression appearing on his face. “Please!” I heaved out hysterically, breaking into an aggressive walk away from Harry and towards the fountain.

 “ _Odette_!” Harry called after me angrily, taking long and quick strides until he had caught up to me, grabbing onto my wrist and tugging me back towards him. Harry was towering over me, his chest heaving. “Don’t you dare do that to me.” He uttered quietly, his green eyes searching mine. “Don’t shut me out.” He said, his voice wavering with emphasis.

 “I’M NOT!” I screamed viciously, ripping my wrist from his grasp. The both of us were breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling in unison. The moon disappeared behind a cloud bank, leaving the both of us in darkness for a moment.

Harry took a step forward, standing directly in front of me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, hear his quick breaths. Staring straight ahead at Harry’s chest, Grandpa’s dog tags glinted in the darkness. Suddenly I felt Harry’s fingers below my chin, tilting it upwards so that I was looking at him. The moon burst forth from behind the clouds, illuminating Harry’s face, each indentation and each line that I had known, memorized my entire life. Breathing for a moment, Harry blinked at me, swallowing hard. “I’m,” Harry began, chest heaving. “ _I’m your brother_.” Harry paused, his face contorting for a moment. “You can tell me anything.”  

 I stared at Harry for a moment, allowing my gaze to travel over the familiar panes of his face, a swell appearing in my chest when my eyes met with his once again. “No, Harry.” I said quietly, allowing my gaze to fall to the cobblestone. “Not everything.” And with that, I took a step backwards, Harry’s fingers slipping from beneath my chin. “Goodnight.” I whispered, turning my back to Harry distancing myself from him. Refusing the urge to cry, I had only taken a few steps when Harry yelled out “Wait!”

Halting in my steps, I turned to face Harry again, my eyes flowing over his lean frame. Chest heaving, Harry’s eyes were wide with terror. “Yes?” I breathed, shivering as a cool Veronese breeze blew past us.

Harry’s green eyes searched mine manically until finally, he choked out, “ _I love you, Odette_.” So similar to the way he had spoken it in my dreams, so like a declaration.

Smiling sadly, I knew then what I had to do, knew that this time; I would be putting my brother before myself, putting Harry before myself. “ _I love you too, Harry_.” I said emphatically, although in a different way than Harry had meant it. _Which was why I had to leave_ , I thought to myself. And with that I left Harry standing in the light of the blue moon, knowing that his eyes remained on me until I disappeared out of sight.

Returning to my hotel room, I began to toss my belongings into my suitcase, purchasing a one way ticket out of Verona to Cheshire, longing for nothing but the woods and for the green eyes I had left staring after me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Odette! In the next chapter, we return to Holmes Chapel and have a glimpse into Odette's life as a student, her two childhood friends, as well as an old flame. Her feelings for Harry which regardless of their distance, do not seem to fade, and so send her spiraling out of control. Until next time! <3 xo


	11. Escape (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette finds herself back in Holmes Chapel. Her feelings for Harry do not fade, and so she begins to spin out of control.

It took one whole minute to realize that I was awake.

Mouth tasting of throw up, I blinked upwards at the pitted white ceiling, knowing that it was not my own bed I slept in. Turning my head to the left, I saw that lying on his stomach beside me was local drug dealer Jack Wells, his boyish face pressed against a thin white pillow without a case. Ski-slope nose, high cheekbones, and Cupid’s bow lips, Jack had been my first boyfriend, my first fuck. Coming back to Holmes Chapel meant coming back to Jack, especially at times when my life was falling apart, at times when I needed to escape. Like the previous year when Zayn had cheated on me, Jack’s arms were there to welcome me when I returned, as was his bed, as was his abundance of designer drugs.   

Sunlight bounced of the lone diamond stud in Jack’s ear, the previous night’s festivities at last filtering into my mind –meeting with Zara and Raina for drinks at the park and ending up at Jack’s, who had decided to throw an impromptu party upon finally hearing of my return, nearly three weeks after my arrival in Holmes Chapel. An hour later I had a rolled-up dollar bill thrust up my nostril, and an hour after that I had my thighs wrapped around Jack’s lean, naked frame.

Jack’s mattress strained beneath my weight as I sat up in bed, blinking tiredly as I glanced around his disaster of a room. Sprawled out across a half-inflated air mattress was Zara’s tiny frame, her rat’s nest of jet black hair delicately resting on the hard planes of Ollie’s pale chest. I smiled in spite of my own bitterness, happy that my most cherished friend was finally making progress with the boy she had loved for years. Although most might peg Ollie and Zara as a somewhat mismatched couple –Ollie, a lanky ginger and Zara, a wispy Indian girl with a mop of wild black hair, I had never met a pair of individuals as stubbornly in love with each other as they were.

Eyes drifting towards the analog alarm clock perched on Jack’s cluttered desk, the remnants of my smile for Ollie and Zara faded when the neon red digits shifted to 8:07 AM. “ _Shit_!” I hissed theatrically, flying from beneath Jack’s sheets. I was late for biochemistry. “Shit, shit, shit.” I muttered to myself, searching the floor for my thong. _Fuck it_ , I thought when I was unable to locate it, slipping into last night’s outfit –a see-through long-sleeved black lace top, black bra, and matching black skirt.

“So that’s it then?” Jack’s amused voice quipped from behind me. “Use me for my body and take off without so much as a goodbye?”

Turning on my heel, I saw that Jack was fresh from his slumber, a half-smirk on his pink lips and a twinkle in his brown eyes. “I happen to have class,” I answered with a coy smile, my increasing lateness hammering away at the back of my mind. “Not everyone has money piling in by the bucket loads, you know.” I added haughtily, slipping my foot into one of my black thigh high boots.

Jack let out a scoff, running a hand over the dark stubble of his shaved head. “Says the pop star’s sister!” He announced with a hearty laugh.

“ _Don’t fucking remind me_ …” I growled under my breath, Jack’s words serving as a reminder of my misery, the word ‘ _sister_ ’ echoing tauntingly in my mind.  Going to snatch my wristlet off the bedside table, my hand froze in mid-air when I saw that a small baggie of cocaine was peeking out from beneath a loose piece of paper. Without thinking, I slipped the baggie beneath my wristlet, securing both in my hands. Leaping over a pile of Jack’s dirty laundry, I nudged Ollie hard in the ribs with the tip of my boot. Startled, Ollie’s eyes shot open to stare at me in confusion, a low groan emerging from his lips. “ _What_?” He announced, raising a hand to block the flow of obtrusive sunlight.

“Don’t you _dare_ fuck this up.” I hissed venomously, motioning between him and Zara’s sleeping form.

A sleepy love-struck smile found Ollie’s lips. “I won’t…” He mumbled shyly, glancing down at Zara to make sure that she was still sleeping peacefully.

“ _Good_.” I spat in mock anger, a small smile finding my lips when Ollie pulled Zara closer into his chest, burying his face into her nest of black hair. With that, I breezed through Jack’s bedroom door, certain that I could hear him throwing his sheets back as I made my way down the hall. Jack’s house was in a state of disaster, the floor littered with shards of glass mixed with soil from an overturned plant.

“Odette!” Jack said as he barreled through his bedroom door, hissing in pain when his bare feet came into contact with a sliver of broken glass. “Odette, wait!” He pleaded, taking hold of my wrist. I turned to face Jack, my eyes lapping over the familiar panes of his face, the fierce Irish cross on the left of his chest. Jack was dangerous, I reminded myself, as Harry always had when we first began dating, was in too deep with his family’s drug empire and too caught up in his own using to ever get away from it now. I never was sure, if Jack meant something to me or not. Now I was beginning to wonder if perhaps all he ever was, was a toy; a toy I had used when I craved for Harry’s attention. Closing my eyes, I could feel my face contort, my fingers beginning to tremble when I allowed Harry’s face, basked in the Veronese moonlight, to renter my mind.

“Jack…” I began weakly, feeling the energy drain from me, feeling the fight against Harry’s presence in my mind dissipate.   

Jack’s sleepy brown eyes searched mine. “Why are you always in such a rush to leave?” He inquired. “Even last time, you left like it was _nothing_.”

I stared upwards at Jack, into his brown eyes that for some reason, looked greener to me today. “I told you I have class-” I said quietly, averting my eyes to the floor.

“I meant _me_ ; you’re always in such a rush to leave _me_.” Jack interjected, tilting my chin upwards so that I was forced to look at his face. Jack had always been safe for me, an escape route to take when the new and vibrant world Harry had brought me into began to collapse. However, the paths Jack usually led me down were dark ones, paths that there was no guarantee I’d ever emerge from. “Can you really say I mean nothing to you now? That I never meant anything?” He continued quietly, his brows pulling together.

I felt my face contort with turmoil. “You did.” I explained in a whisper. “But I’ve changed. I’m not that girl anymore, Jack. I’m past the cheap thrills and the meaningless fucking-” I continued, only to be interrupted by Jack.

“ _Aren’t you_?” He mused sardonically, a dark expression flashing across his brown eyes.

I could feel myself begin to tremble, hating that Jack was right, hating that I was a walking contradiction. “You’re not good for my heath, Jack.” I said weakly, continuing to try and pretend that I wasn’t the same, perpetually unstable person who fell apart at the first sign of dissonance in my life, that I was at least better off than he was. 

 Jack scoffed. “And what, Zayn is?” He countered, taking a step forward. “That’s why you’re back here again aren’t you? He hurt you, Odette.”

A bitter smile appeared on my lips. If only it were that easy, if only it simply boiled down to Zayn fucking another girl. “Not exactly.” I told him, thinking that if Jack knew the real reason for my being back in Holmes Chapel, he’d likely wish he’d never have asked. Ripping open the screen door, I stepped out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of Holmes Chapel’s frigid air. The entire neighbourhood was basked in sunlight, the previously green trees taken captive by autumn’s red and gold. This was just the sort of morning Harry loved the most, one he had always felt meant a new beginning.    

“I’d treat you right, Odette.” Jack called after me as I descended his porch steps. “If you’d just allow me to.”

Glancing back over my shoulder, I could not help but liken Jack to a rose –his petals were beautiful to look at, vibrant with colour that I needed in my life, but his thorns, his thorns were subject to drawing blood. Perhaps I was more like him than I wanted to believe, I mused. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” I said, continuing out into the sunlight that Harry would love so, leaving Jack to watch my retreating back for the second time, and likely time and time after that.

* * *

 

Hurrying down the tiled hallway of Keele University’s Building A, I took a sharp right and darted down the steps towards the lecture hall where my Biochemistry 1100 lecture was taking place. Glancing down at my nearly dead iPhone, I saw that it was nearly 9 o’clock. Hopefully Professor Ingram would be too deep into his tedious rants about the importance of lipids to notice that I was late and dressed quite honestly, like a hooker. Quietly pushing open the heavy door, I slipped into the lecture theatre, nearly dropping my things when I saw that my classmates were in the midst of a test. Furiously scribbling away, a few heads shot up from their papers to stare at me, a pair of boys cracking into cruel smiles while the rest of the class broke into a chorus of low whispers. Chest heaving, I shot daggers at them with my eyes, silencing them at once. Glancing down towards the front of the theatre, I saw that Professor Ingram was watching me from his place near the blackboard, a notable grimace on his lips.

Swallowing hard, I began my descent down the wide steps, keeping my eyes trained forward in an attempt to ignore the intrusive glares of my classmates. As I dragged my feet towards Professor Ingram, I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes drilling into my back. Subconsciously pulling down my short skirt, I glanced up at Professor Ingram, putting on an innocent smile.   

“Ms. Styles, you’re late.” He spoke quietly, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Professor Ingram was a rotund, middle-aged man who often sweated profusely throughout the expanse of a lecture. He had also quite publicly, been left by his wife.

“I’m very sorry, professor.” I said with mock regret, using my inner arms to accentuate my breasts. My back was faced to the class, and so only the Professor could see this. His beady eyes momentarily flickered down to my chest, returning to my face after hardly a second, his frown deepening. “I had a bit of a family emergency, to do with my brother, _Harry_. I’m sure you know him.” I said matter-of-factly, blinking innocently with the hint of a smile on my lips.

“Your brother, Harry.” Professor Ingram nodded along, appearing to be annoyed.

I smiled brightly. “Yes, everything’s fine now,” I quickly discarded the topic. “I suppose I’ll get on with writing the test, then?” I offered, attempting to reach for what appeared to be an extra booklet.

Professor Ingram snatched the test from my reach. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Odette.” He said sternly.

I forced a smile. “I can always come back another day-” I began, the desperation in my voice becoming more pronounced. I couldn’t afford another disaster, couldn’t afford to fuck up the last redeemable thing about my life. Harry, Zayn, Jack –I had ruined it with all of them. When Danielle and Eleanor got wind of what I had done to Emma, I’m sure it would be over with them as well. My education was all I had left, was the only thing that wouldn’t write me off as a complete failure.

“You’re failing the course, Ms.Styles.” Professor Ingram interjected angrily. “This is the seventh class you’ve missed, not to mention that you failed to turn in your term paper which was due on Tuesday.”

I could feel my face threaten to contort, my fingers involuntarily beginning to tremble. “But-” I managed to sputter out, only for the Professor to interrupt me again.

“It’s a real shame.” He shook his head. “You have the potential for excellence when you apply yourself, Odette.” He blithered on in an attempt to sound fatherly.

Internally, I decided that I was desperate enough to trade myself for a second chance. “Are you certain something can’t be arranged?” I said, wetting my lips “I would do just about _anything_ , Professor.” I spoke lowly, my eyes discreetly flickering to the swell in Professor Ingram’s pants. I was certain he craved it after his wife left him, to be held, to be loved, just likely any other man would. It would be a simple exchange of services, I mused, quid-pro-quo.

Glancing back up at the Professor’s watery brown eyes, I saw that his face was flushed angrily; however for a moment, I saw the sentiment flash across his face –consideration, lust. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Ms. Styles.” He threatened, an undercurrent of anxiety in his voice. Perhaps, due to him having contemplated it.

Chest heaving, I turned on my heel in order to storm out of the lecture hall, pausing when a brilliant idea registered in my mind. Directly in front of Professor Ingram, I slowly bent down, feigning the fixing of the zipper on my boot. My skirt was so short that my ass cheeks and quite possibly my pussy was on full display for the Professor. A second later, I heard a strangled breath emerge from the Professor’s lips, and so I stood upright, beginning my trek out of the lecture hall, hoping that Professor Ingram would have to suffer with a hard cock and no one to fuck it for the remainder of the class.

* * *

 

Emerging from the over-crowded bus to Holmes Chapel from Staffordshire, I wearily stepped onto the sidewalk, ushering myself out of the crowd of students and towards the side of a convenience store to have a smoke. Reaching into my wristlet, I secured my last of the two smokes I had bummed off Zara the night before. As the students dispersed around me, I saw recognition flash across a few of their faces as they passed me. Upon the expression on my face, they wisely chose to leave me alone. Putting the smoke between my lips, I brought the flame of my Zippo to the bottom of it. Inhaling deeply, I began to lean my head against the brick wall, when The Sun newspaper rack caught my eye. Dropping my cigarette to the cobblestoned sidewalk, I walked right up to it, met with the familiar form of Harry –and another.

Viciously prying open the door of the dispenser, I snatched up one of the newspapers, bringing it right up to my nose. There on the very front page was Harry, the newspaper’s green ink unable to capture the true vibrancy of his eyes and of course the girl, the blonde haired, grey eyed Italian vixen from Verona, making their way down an ancient sidewalk in Portugal, hand in hand.  **HARRY STYLES AND MODEL LUCIANA BRAMBATI MAKE FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE AS COUPLE** , the headline read in black bolded letters. The expression on Harry’s face was an indifferent one, his brows knitted together in the middle and his eyes trained forward –the expression he chose for when the paparazzi were hounding him. Luciana on the other hand had a dazzling smile on her face, one of pure happiness as she gazed upon Harry. Looking back at Harry, I could not be sure, but I was certain that beneath his eyes were once again, a deep pair of dark bags.

The newspaper began to vibrate, and glancing down I realized that my hands, skin pulled tight over my knuckles, were trembling. Taking a shallow breath, I flicked open my Zippo, bringing its flame to life. Bringing the corner of the newspaper towards the red and orange blaze, I froze in place when I heard my name being called.

“Odette?” A female voice exclaimed in surprise, with the hint of an ever so slight Russian accent.

Concealing the newspaper behind my back, I whirled around, only to come face to face with a perplexed Anastasia Maksimov, my ballet instructor from five years before. “Ana!” I exclaimed in astonishment, clutching the newspaper more securely against the small of back. “What are you doing here?” I said, realizing how rude my question might sound once I had already said it. “I mean,” I said in an attempt to correct myself. “I thought you were planning on going back to St. Petersburg?”

Before Ana had accepted her job as a teacher at the Laura Wilson School of Dance, she had had a budding career as a soloist at the Mariinsky Ballet, only to be famously sidelined by an injury. With soft features and a shock of bronze coloured hair, at 5’1 Ana made for the ideal ballerina. She let out a bright laugh, shifting her bag of groceries further up her arm. “I was,” She agreed, lifting her left hand which bore a simple diamond ring on her fourth finger. “But then I met Alexander.” She teased, dropping her hand. “I realize I didn’t have to choose between love and dance. I have both now.” She smiled dreamily.

My heart swelled for Ana, as did a flash of envy. There Ana stood, a rosy glow to her cheeks and in possession of all the happiness she could ever have wished for. Then there was me, gaunt cheeks, days of black makeup smeared beneath my eyes, and itching for a hit of coke. “That’s wonderful, Ana.” I smiled sadly, remembering what was written on the newspaper I held, remembering that I now had another reason to be miserable. Harry and Luciana. Luciana and Harry. “I should be going-” I began hastily, feeling an onslaught of tears prick at the corner of my eyes.

“Why don’t you come back, Odette?” Ana breathed, a determined glint appearing in her dark eyes.

I felt myself begin to frown. “ _To what_?” I inquired with petulance, thinking that I could have avoided the entirety of this terrible day if I had just listened to Jack, if I had just stayed with him as he had asked.  

“Ballet, you silly girl!” Ana exclaimed, a bemused expression on her face. “You were –how they say?” She narrowed her eyes in search of the word. “A natural!” She said at last, smiling proudly at her use of the word. “You will come back, no?” Ana reasoned, her eyebrows knitting in the middle.

At the mention of ballet, I could not help but remember how much I had loved its grace, its discipline, and of course its beauty. I remembered the power I felt when leaping into the air, the pride I had felt when standing erect en pointe. “I couldn’t.” I spoke without realizing it, glancing back up at Ana, seeing that a disappointed expression had appeared on her face. “I’m not in the best place right now, Ana.” I explained, shivering as a cool breeze rustled my matted and unwashed hair. Harry’s sunshine had disappeared, the sky regressing into a matte grey.

Ana nodded, her expression, one of pity. “Okay.” She said quietly, reaching out to squeeze my arm. When Ana’s gaze met with my empty one, I knew she could tell I wasn’t lying. “Please take care of yourself, Odette.” She pleaded, dropping her gaze to the sidewalk and continuing on her trek home, to Alexander, I supposed. Just before turning the corner, I saw Ana’s eyes observe me once more –fleetingly, forlornly. And just like that, I was alone once again.

Retrieving the newspaper from behind my back, I clenched my fists in an attempt to rip it, but found that I could not, the strength having drained from my fingers. Letting it slide from my hands, it fell to the ground, the wind rapidly turning its pages.

I reached home in a daze. Evening had fallen in Holmes Chapel, the bitter cold leaving my fingers and extremities numb. Heavily lifting my feet up the steps of the porch, I struggled to push my key into the lock, at last managing to fiddle it open. Dragging myself into the warmth of the house, I allowed the door to slam shut behind me, not bothering to slide out of my boots as I made the ascent up the stairs and towards my room.

“Odette? Is that you?” I could hear my Mother’s shrill voice emerge from the television room. Ignoring her calls, I began to turn down the hallway, pausing to glance at Harry’s door to my left. Breath hitching in my throat, before I knew what had come over me; I was starting towards Harry’s room, my eyes flickering across the bold letters spelling out his name. Quietly pushing open the door, I was swept into darkness, my heart aching as Harry’s scent made its way up my nostrils. Trembling, I ran my fingers across the wall in search of the light switch. Finding it at last, everything Harry was illuminated.

Throat constricted of air, my heart began to thud rapidly, my eyes scanning the forest green of Harry’s room. In a combination of courage and madness, I descended further into Harry’s room, the heels of my boots echoing beneath my feet. Trailing my fingers over the thin layer of dust covering his desk, I saw that everything was unmoved aside for one thing. The photo of our family trip in Mexico had been overturned. Lifting my hand to set it upright, something in my mind told me I should leave it. Dropping my hand to my side, I found myself observing the sparse row of books above Harry’s computer –Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Fledgling Jason Steed, and Joseph Heller’s Catch 22, which I had bought for him on his 18th birthday. Plucking it from the rickety shelf, I flipped open the cover, my eyes widening in surprise when I was met with a photograph tucked securely in the spine –one of Harry and I at Niall’s 21st birthday. Harry’s lips were pressed against my cheek, his eyes shut and pink lips pulled up into a grin. Arms around Harry’s neck, my entire face was lit up, a bright white smile on my lips –one of pure and unadulterated happiness. How I wished I could know the Odette in that photograph again, the one who knew Harry as her brother, the one who knew the difference between one sort of love and another.

Slamming the book shut, I returned it to Harry’s shelf, hesitantly making my way over to his open closet. Running my fingers through his array of mostly blue and black shirts, I plucked one from its hanger, running my hand across where his chest would be; his heart. Bringing it to my face, I inhaled deeply, the freeing thought of throwing myself from the roof creeping into my mind. A moment later, I found myself stretched out on Harry’s bed, running my fingers across the soft flannel pattern of his fleece duvet. Heart thudding wildly in my chest, I could feel my core burning, wondering what it would be like –if Harry was beside me.

Ripping open my wristlet, my hands were shaking so violently that I could hardly dial. Waiting patiently as the phone rang, a sob emerged from my lips when Zara’s sweet voice rang out on the other side. “Oh my god, I have so much to tell you.” She began excitedly.

“Zara.” I sobbed in agony, my vision blurring with tears.

Zara’s tone changed instantly “What’s wrong?” She demanded. “Are you alright?” Her voice raised an octave, drenched with panic. 

“ _I need you_.” I pleaded. “ _I need to get out of here_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! I can't thank you all enough! Hope you enjoyed this (slightly uneventful) chapter and expect LOTS more Harry in the next!


	12. Escape (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette lands herself in the hospital and is visited by Harry.

For a Thursday night, the Snooty Fox was bustling, filled with Holmes Chapel residents that simply could not wait for the weekend to arrive.

Traditionally Irish in every sense of the word, the Snooty fox consisted of an array of wooden tables, walls, stained glass windows, and a horrendous live band.

Following closely behind Raina and Zara, I pretended not to see the concerned looks shared between them as we searched for somewhere to sit. I hadn’t bothered to change out of the clothes I was already wearing, nor had I reapplied my makeup, or washed my hair even. Sliding into the slick wooden seat across from my two oldest friends, I quickly flagged down the waitress, ordering eight tequilas.

“You can both have one.” I offered with a shrug, even though I had planned on having them myself.

Raina opened her mouth to speak, but deciding against whatever she planned to say, closed it again. Of the two of them, Raina was the sensible one, the uptight one who was guaranteed to go places. A mousy brunette, Raina was exceptionally ordinary in every way, aside for the heterochromia that had turned part of her blue eye, an ochre brown.

Zara leaned forward, giving me a stern glare. “Odette, you need to tell us what’s going on with you.” She said, speaking loudly over the live band’s rendition of Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’.

The waitress returned with our shots, placing them two by two in front of me. “Absolutely nothing.” I assured Zara, wordlessly handing the waitress a 50£ bank note and gesturing for her to keep the change. “It’s not a crime to want to spend time with my best friends, you know.” I said with a raise of my eyebrows, knocking back two of the shots and wondering when it would be a good time to sneak away to the loo.

“Of course it isn’t!” Raina said emphatically, looking as if she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know about Zara, but I for one don’t like that you’ve started up with Jack again.” She said, taking a shaky breath. “You were nearly arrested the last time you dated him.” She hissed, furiously darting her eyes around the bar to make sure no one was listening in on our conversation.

I rolled my eyes heavily, knocking back another shot. What Raina said wasn’t a lie, I had nearly been arrested for possession the previous year at Holmes Chapel’s only night club; Manhattan. Jack had just begun dealing his older brother’s product –a purser than usual blend of cocaine, and had asked me to store it in my purse when we were in the club. Spotted putting it into my purse by an undercover policeman, I had quickly sprinted to the loo, managing to flush it before being caught. It was the only occasion that running regularly had ever really paid off.

“I haven’t started anything, Raina,” I assured her, scrunching up my nose when I downed another tequila. “We just fucked; it’s not the end of the world.” Riana was one of the kindest people I knew, and so I didn’t wish to worry her, especially because it would likely keep her up at night. “Now enough about me,” I said, forcing a smirk and training my eyes on Zara. “Is Ollie as well endowed as he says he is?” I inquired teasingly. 

A furious blush appeared on Zara’s tanned cheeks, yet she nonetheless brushed off my comment, her eyes widening in realization. “He did it again didn’t he?” Zara whispered passionately, her lips parting. “That prick cheated on you again!” She slammed the table with her small fist.

Zara had never been a fan of Zayn’s wandering eye, and so it wasn’t a surprise that she jumped to that conclusion. “No,” I emphasized, glancing down at my hands to see that I had anxiously shredded one of the Snooty Foxes signature coasters. “Zayn’s been faithful.” I said quietly, shuddering ever so slightly when the heavy oak doors of the Snooty Fox opened, inviting in a cold gust of wind.

Zara and Raina were staring at me in confusion. I took the opportunity to sip on another shot, suddenly feeling very drunk. “Then what’s the matter, Odette?” It was Raina who spoke, her eyebrows knit together with worry. “You know you can tell us anything, right?”

I stared back at my two friends, wondering what they would think of me if I told them I wanted to fuck my own brother, if they knew he was the only thing in this world that could curb my hunger. Would Raina still insist I could tell her and Zara anything?

A dizzying pause.

“I don’t love Zayn anymore.” The words had tumbled out of my mouth before I had even realized it, as natural and mechanical as taking a breath. If I couldn’t tell my best friends the truth, at least I could tell them part of it. Downtrodden, I glanced up weakly, seeing that shocked expressions were etched onto both their faces.

As Zara opened her mouth to speak, I was already getting to my feet. “I’ll be right back.” I said, feeling the panic begin to close in around me. Snatching up my wristlet I descended into the crowd of drunken twenty-somethings, faintly hearing Zara and Raina call after me. Stumbling towards the bar, I wedged my way through the wall of Snooty Fox Patrons, patiently waiting to be served. Ignoring the creative string of extremities one girl decided to spew out at my cutting in line, I slammed a 100£ note onto the aged wooden countertop. “Absinthe.” I slurred to the bartender, watching as her eyes widened in surprise. La fée verte or the Green Fairy, as I had heard it so affectionately coined in France.

“You must be joking.” The bartender sputtered, eyeing me up and down in horror.

Swaying from left to right, I managed to give her a venomous look. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” I said drolly, then turning to the girl who I had budged in front of. “Next round’s on me.” I said, giving her a saccharine smile.

A moment later, the bartender had returned with a dusty glass bottle of green liquid. Cracking it open, she began to pour a shot for me, shaking her head to herself in an attempt to suggest I was mad. Snatching the shot when she had finished pouring it, I observed the thick liquid, thinking fleetingly that its vibrant colour was so similar to Harry’s Adriatic green. Cringing once I had knocked it back, I stumbled away from the bar; freezing in place when I saw that sitting just on the other side of the room was none other than Jack Wells.

Jack’s brown eyes met with mine in surprise. Quickly clambering to his feet, Jack’s look of surprise quickly shifted to one of concern. “Shit.” I muttered to myself. Looking away quickly, I averted my eyes to the floor, continuing my trek towards the loo.

Heart thudding, I entered the washroom, drunkenly cringing at its filthy state. Falling through one of the open stall doors, I haphazardly locked it behind me, sifting through my wristlet. Unearthing the small baggie of cocaine I had nicked from Jack’s house, I clambered down onto my knees, closing the lid of the toilet. Gently pouring two fat lines of cocaine along the porcelain seat, I blocked one nostril, snorting the lines up with my other. Feeling the rush envelope my head, my heart began to gallop when a soft knock sounded at the stall door.

Scrambling to my feet, I flung open the lid of the toilet, tossing the baggie and its contents into the toilet, certain that it was a cop. Flushing it, I whirled around to face the closed door, my breaths coming out in short labored puffs. Blinking repeatedly as the cocaine’s effects began to wash over me, I at last reached for the stall door, prying it open.

With hardly a second to register Jack’s form, his lips came crushing against mine, his hands sliding up my skirt to squeeze my ass. Gasping against his lips, I ran my hands over his shaved head, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. Our bodies slammed into the side of the stall, a guttural moan emerging from my lips when we broke apart for air. Scrambling to undo his belt buckle, I wrapped my legs around his hips, gasping when his cock plunged into me. Clinging onto the top of the bathroom stall for support, I let out short throbbing cries as Jack pumped into me. The stall began to reek of sex, Jack burying his face into my breasts as he began to come.

Thrusting into me once more, Jack’s knees began to buckle, his thick hot load shooting into me. Recovering his balance, Jack’s brown eyes found mine, his hot breaths against my mouth. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He breathed.

Blinking repeatedly, I began to break out into a hot sweat, my eyes struggling to stay open. Feeling my legs slip from around Jack’s waist, the last thing I heard before slipping into the darkness was Jack, screaming “Odette!” 

 

It was all happening at once –the evergreen trees in Holmes Chapel’s forest, the morning sun peeking out over the hills, a cool breeze rustling my hair as I pushed open the kitchen windows, gravel crunching beneath my feet, the crashing of the sea against a cliffside, and finally, Harry’s voice –as pure and cool as running water. “Always.”  
Struggling to open my eyes, I blinked in annoyance at the instructive bright lights, my ears registering the steady beep of a heart monitor –my heart monitor. Looking around wildly, I cringed at the sting of intravenous fluids seeping down my veins, my breath hitching in my throat when I saw that sitting on a chair just across from my bed was the unmistakable form of Harry. Staring at him wordlessly, I allowed my gaze to flow over him –his strong, tanned forearms from the Portuguese heat, his explosion of thick brown curls, bleached ever so slightly by the sun.

I must be dreaming, I maintained, I had to be dreaming. Or maybe, my stomach lurched, maybe I was dead.

Hunched over in his chair, Harry’s head was in his hands, erratic breaths rattling from his chest. Clad in a rumpled up red plaid shirt and black jeans, Grandpa’s dog tags dangled precariously from Harry’s neck. He began to shake his head of unkempt hair, muttering unintelligibly until at last, his words were discernible.

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m going mad, Odette, completely raving mad and-” Harry whispered frantically, his body suddenly going rigid. Taking a fearful breath, Harry slowly lifted his head, his tired, tear-filled eyes –as brilliant and green as the last time I saw them, meeting with mine in horror. Whatever words that had been spilling from Harry’s pink lips halted, and in a mixture of relief and agony, wordlessly, he blinked his green eyes at me.

I stared back, refusing the urge to wet my parched lips. Pushing past the lump that formed in my throat at Harry’s painful expression, I quietly whispered “Hi”, my own voice –raspy and gravelly was barely recognizable to me.

Harry continued to stare at me, his expression morphing into one of fury, one of hurt. Clenching his jaw, Harry took a deep, shaking breath, momentarily glancing to the side and angrily wiping at his tears. Elbows propped up on his knees; Harry’s clasped his hands together so tightly that they begun to tremble.

Eyes drifting back to the side of Harry’s face, my heart steadily beat as I awaited his answer, waited to hear his voice again in something other than my dreams –my anxiety reflecting in the increasing tempo of my heart monitor. Harry did not answer right away, his brows knitted together in thought. Lower lip quivering, I dropped my gaze to my lap, thinking that if Harry didn’t hate me before, he certainly hated me now. Daring a glance in his direction after a few moments, I saw that Harry had finally allowed his gaze to lock on me.

“How do you feel?” Harry inquired quietly, leaning back in his chair to assess me further. His disappointment in me was palpable, was charging the air.

I swallowed hard, wincing as I struggled to prop myself up further. Harry’s hardened look softened at once, but shaking his head he seemed to remind himself that he was still upset with me. “Like shit.” I answered him honestly, genuinely feeling as if I had been struck by a freight train. My bones felt weak and my throat sore, my stomach and ribs stinging sharply each time I took a breath.

Harry gazed at me intensely from beneath his lashes. “After getting your stomach pumped, I suppose you would.” He countered, flexing his hands which to my horror, I saw were bloodied and bruised. And suddenly, Jack’s hot caresses and wet lips returned to my mind, and I realized that being with him in the filthy loo of the Snooty Fox was the last thing I could remember. Yet there he was, his presence unaccounted for.

I glanced back up at Harry’s face in terror, my breaths quick and shallow. “What happened to Jack?” I asked, convinced that Harry had something to do with his absence in my hospital room. If I knew Jack, nearly nothing would stop him from being certain that I was alright, nothing aside for perhaps Harry. “Where is he, Harry?” I pressed on.

Harry glanced up at me from his lap, his green eyes boring into mine. “Jack decided it was best to leave.” He sniffed after a moment.

My lips parted in shock. “What did you do to him?” I demanded, my voice cracking from the strain I was putting on it.

Running a hand through his mess of brown hair, Harry sat up to his full height, pressing his back into the stiff black hospital provided chair. “What I should’ve done the last time he came anywhere near you.” He answered without any remorse, averting his eyes from mine.

I could feel tears of embarrassment and guilt rush to my eyes, a shallow breath rattling out from my chest. “You had no right!” I choked out angrily.

“I had every right!” Harry interjected desperately, his outburst sending causing me to jolt backwards. Harry’s feverish green eyes were wide, and suddenly he was on his feet, his broad shoulders turned towards me. With a frustrated growl Harry began his approach towards the door.

“No you didn’t!” I screamed in response, flinching as I ripped the IV from my vein, ignoring the blood that began to gush from my wrist. Pushing the hospital bed’s sheets from my body, I pursued Harry, the floor of the hospital room cold against my bare feet.

Without a beat, Harry whirled around to face me, his chest heaving. “So you’re telling me you got the drugs from someone else, then?” He mocked angrily.

“I stole them from him!” I screeched, wanting so badly for Harry to understand that this whole thing was my fault and my fault alone. I knew that Harry would never blame me outright for all this; doing so would be acknowledging that I was a bad person, that I was a lost cause, that I couldn’t be saved. This was something Harry would never be prepared to do –give up on me.

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not the fucking point, Odette!” He breathed after a moment, turning his back towards me again and clenching his fists against his sides.

“Then tell me Harry, what is the point?” I said emphatically, my legs beginning to tremble beneath my weight. When Harry didn’t answer, I screamed “For fuck’s sake, tell me, Harry!” I yelled, tears gushing from my eyes.

Harry spun around, his warm hands cradling my face. “He’s not good enough for you, that’s why.” He breathed, his face contorting. I could scarcely contain my astonishment, the heat radiating from Harry’s body sending a cool shiver down my spine. Harry’s touch was tender against my skin, my breathing erratic at our sudden contact. A hot blush pooled in my cheeks, and by the look on Harry’s face, I knew that he had seen it. Green eyes widening, Harry’s face drained of blood, his hands falling limply to his sides. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he did not move.

Studying Harry in agony, I found my voice at last. “You didn’t have to come.” I said weakly, Harry’s tired eyes lifting when I began to speak. “I’m perfectly fine, can’t you see?” I went on softly, gesturing to myself.

Harry’s observed me, a dark look appearing on his face. “When you hear your sister might possibly have overdosed, you don’t just assume she’s fine.” He spat in anguish. “You drop everything, and you come to make sure.” He concluded, his voice shaking violently.

“Harry-” I choked out, only to be interrupted.

“Do you love me, Odette?” Harry inquired with a passionate whisper, his green eyes searching mine.

A beat, where I scarcely considered telling Harry the truth, the truth of why I was falling apart, the truth of why I fled from Verona.

“Of course.” I said emphatically, my face contorting with tears. More than you’ll ever know, I thought to myself sadly.

Harry swallowed hard. “Then you have to promise me something.” He requested softly, continuing when I nodded in assent. “Stay away from the drugs, and the alcohol, and most of all, stay away from Jack Wells.” He choked out.

“What if I don’t want to?” I breathed after a moment, but in reality, this was me doubting my strength, doubting Harry’s faith in me. What if I can’t? I wanted to say.

Harry’s eyes searched my face, his expression unreadable. The room was silent aside for our erratic breathing and the shrill alarm of my heart monitor, informing the room’s inhabitants that I had detached from it. “Then you don’t love me.” Harry breathed, my stomach plummeting once the words left his mouth.

At this point, there were hardly a few inches between our chests, the fiery, addictive heat radiating from Harry’s body sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. My nipples grew hard at the sudden chill, poking through the sheer fabric of my hospital gown. Lifting my eyes discreetly, I saw Harry’s gaze flicker downwards, the both of us jumping apart when our ears were met with the ringing of Harry’s phone. Reaching into his pocket, Harry’s green eyes darted across the screen, and grimacing, he ignored the call.

“Who was it?” I inquired, Harry’s green eyes lifting to meet with mine.

He stared at me for a moment before answering. “Nobody,” Harry brushed off my statement, his gaze flitting suddenly to my arm and a concerned look appearing on his face. “You’re bleeding.” His eyes grew wide.

Glancing down, I saw that a thick trail of blood was making its way down the back of my hand from where I had ripped out my IV. “Oh.” I said, feeling my stomach begin to churn. Swaying to the left suddenly, I felt Harry’s strong grip hesitantly take hold of my waist, his arm securing mine across his broad shoulders.

“I’ve got you.” Harry said quietly, assisting me back towards my bed. Carefully sitting me down on the side of the mattress, Harry’s face was a mere inch away from mine, my arm still draped across his shoulders. Harry lifted his green eyes to mine, his pupils dilating as he stared back at me. I studied the chiseled pains of his face, his lips, wondering in horror if there was a resemblance between us, if people thought we looked like each other in one way or another –our smiles, or our mannerisms, as most siblings did. If there was however, a resemblance, I chose not to see it, to pretend it didn’t exist.

“Thanks.” I whispered to him, and with that Harry quickly withdrew his arm, leaving a cool void on my waist where his touch had been.

Watching as I adjusted the covers, Harry hurriedly averted his gaze when I lifted my legs onto the bed, still gold from the summer’s heat. In defeat, Harry sat down in his seat across from me once again, his expression impossible to decode. He simply stared at me, swallowing hard.

Leaning my back against the pillows, I reattached the heart monitor to my finger, meeting my gaze with Harry’s green one. “Was it Luciana?” I asked him, in a mixture of bravery and temporary madness. “Who called you?” I clarified quietly.

Harry’s jaw clenched, his green eyes falling to his lap. “I was going to tell you.” He explained quietly, meeting his brilliant green eyes with mine once again. 

I smiled. “You don’t have to explain.” I told him softly, shifting to my side.

Harry’s green eyes were trained forward, anywhere but in my direction.

“Are you happy?” I inquired further, wanting nothing more than my brother’s happiness, something that when I was present, didn’t seem to exist. This Luciana, perhaps, she was what Harry needed, perhaps she is what would finally make him smile.

Harry’s green eyes flickered to mine, narrowed in anguish. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “I am.” He answered at last.

At this, I reached for Harry’s hand that was resting on the side of my bed. When I placed mine on top of his, Harry froze in place, his entire body going rigid. His green eyes searched my face in terror as I squeezed his hand. “Then I’m happy.” I told him in earnest.

Harry’s chest rose and fell erratically; his eyes flickering to my hand resting on top his and then back to my face. Harry’s fingers were warm beneath mine, inviting the idea of sleep to my mind even further. Lazily glancing to the bed side table, I saw that resting on it was a tattered and thick book. “Ulysses by James Joyce.” I read aloud, trailing my fingers across the gold script on the aged book’s spine.

Letting out a shaky breath Harry nodded and withdrew his hand, placing it in his lap. “Something to keep me preoccupied.” He mumbled, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

“Preoccupied?” I repeated, my eyebrows furrowing. “How long have you been here?”

Harry lifted his green eyes to mine, swallowing hard. “Two days.” He breathed. Sitting up further in his chair, Harry cleared his throat. “Zayn wanted to come, Odette.” He said suddenly. “But only one of us could.” He explained.

“I know.” I lied, knowing very well that Zayn probably hadn’t wanted to see me at all. After everything I had done -Emma, leaving Verona, Jack, could I blame him? A wave of guilt washed over me, knowing that either way, Zayn had not been the person I wished to be by my bedside when I awoke. “So what are you waiting for?” I grinned tiredly in order to change the subject. “Read some to me.” I said quietly, nodding towards the book.

Staring at me with an unreadable expression, Harry nodded his head and dropped his gaze, reaching for the book. Smiling, I watched his eyebrows furrow while searching for his place in the book. At last his furious flipping of the pages ceased, and with one final fleeting look, Harry then began to read.

“Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane,” Harry paused, blinking furiously at the words in front of him.

Taking a shaky breath, he continued. “To incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters,” Harry swallowed, lifting his gaze to search my face for but a moment.

“Her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.” Harry concluded quietly, the tiredness and defeat in his eyes so pronounced when he glanced towards me.

“What is he talking about?” I asked softly, my lids growing heavy at Harry’s soothing voice.

Harry studied my face in silence, and at last he answered quietly. “The moon.” He whispered, just as the welcoming blanket of sleep washed over me.

 

I awoke early the next morning to an empty hospital room and a pit in my stomach at Harry’s absence. On the small grey table at my bedside was an array of cards and flowers, some in bouquets and some placed in vases. There was a bright set of yellow roses from Danielle and Eleanor, chrysanthemums from my Mum and Step-Dad, an enormous glass vase of vibrant pink orchids from Oskar, and to my surprise, a bouquet of white lilies from Zayn, its card signed with nothing but his name. Finally, a lone and already wilting white daisy and a short note sat atop of Harry’s worn copy of Ulysses.  
Taking the small flower into my hand, I brought it to my nose, smelling its sweet fragrance as I read.

Odette,

Finished the book while you slept. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

There were a few scratched out words after this, none of which I could make out.

See you in a few weeks.

\- Harry

With a sigh, I ran my fingers over the impressions of Harry’s words, noticing the harsh imprint of others as well from the previous page. Realizing the page came from Harry’s journal, I flew out from beneath my sheets and towards the window. Tilting Harry’s note to and from the light, I could at last make out what appeared to be yesterday’s entry. I read it over and over again, attempting to understand, wishing for a deeper meaning.

October 29th

The dream is back again.

All that I knew however, was that still, sleep would not find Harry.

 

 

Harry’s P.O.V:

I jolted forward in my seat, struggling to take a breath. Breathing erratically, I pushed myself back into my seat, still feeling a mixture of dread and terror weighing heavily on my chest –as it always did when I woke from this dream. Rapidly taking in my surroundings, I remembered that I was on a red-eye flight out of Heathrow, towards Spain where the others were. Glancing at my phone, I saw that there were still four hours left to fly, as well as a barrage of unanswered texts and phone calls from Luciana. 

Flexing my fist that was still bruised from repeatedly punching Jack, I returned my phone to my pocket, a frown finding my lips. 

Back to tour meant back to hell. They were mutually exclusive for the most part.

Rubbing my temple, I glanced out the small window and into the night, seeing nothing but the red flashing light on the tip of the plane’s wing. I never cared much for flying. Falling asleep usually helped with the restlessness, but these days, it only seemed to make things worse.

Staring out into the blackness, as easily as I had slipped into slumber earlier, the vibrant memories of my dreams crept back into my mind, the same dream that had haunted me since I could remember.

A funeral. I had been at a funeral. Whose it was, I didn’t know.

I was two, three at the most. Odette wasn't there. Maybe Mum had been pregnant, or they had decided to leave her at home because she was a baby. My suit was too tight, too constricting. And I was confused, so unbearably confused. It had begun to rain, the thick droplets of water pitter-pattering against the glossy surface of the casket. I couldn’t stand the sound. It made me cry. Squeezing Mum’s hand tighter, I was suffocated –from the tightness of my suit or the understanding in my small mind, that something had been lost.

But what?

This dream had been gone for a year at least, replaced with others that were worse, still. Worse because I enjoyed them, and worse because they were just dreams. Either way, I woke up wishing.

Wishing it was me in that fucking casket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! Lots more to come, and hope you enjoyed Harry's very first POV!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Lecielbleu here! For those of you who are regular onedirectionfanfiction readers, you will all recognize me as Jamdirection. You can check out my blog iminlovewithastripperfanfiction.tumblr.com where I will be posting assurance that this is indeed me :D! Honestly, I was considering just using Jamdirection as my username but I was such a carrot when I made it/it has part of my name in it so I was like super down for something new and mature and fancy (and French which everyone knows I love oops). ANYWAYS, I thought I'd try out posting on here to see how it goes! 
> 
> For those of you who don't know me, hi ;)! I have quite a bit of this story already (11 almost 12 chapters) written and will be posting installments subsequently based on the response I get! As you may suspect, this story does and will involve themes of incest between Harry Styles and his sister Odette Styles. It's going to be a long ride, but I hope you enjoy it and stick with me! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! xoxo


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